


Once More With Feeling

by SpiritsFlame



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Featuring guest appearance by reluctant soulmate counselor Sidney Crosby, M/M, This is my emotional support Brownie, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 55,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritsFlame/pseuds/SpiritsFlame
Summary: Tyler is a romantic. He thinks that anyone who gets to the NHL has to be, to pin everything on an almost impossible dream. He won't admit it, but he'd been looking forward to his Loop, to meeting the person he's going to spend his life with, over and over. Looking forward to the endless days of getting to know them, the two of them trapped in a moment together.He didn't think he was going to be in it alone, on the tail end of a bad trade, with no soulmate in sight.He didn't think it would be like this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear/gifts).



> For werebear, who knows what she did.

The problem—one of the problems—is that Tyler met a lot of people his first day in Dallas. He’d been all but surrounded from the moment his plane touched down, as if they were afraid he’d make a break for it. He’d shaken hands and exchanged fist bumps and given bro hugs to what felt like half the franchise.

And Tyler—Tyler wants this to work out, of course he does. This is a second chance—could maybe be called closer to a third or fourth chance if he’s being honest with himself. (He tries not to be, when he has the option.)

But he’s also tired and aching and a bit hungover, hollowed out with hurt and anger and loss. (He’d thought he _had_ something, something to keep. Something _real._ And in the end, it hadn’t meant anything. That, once again, it had only meant something to him.)

So he doesn’t remember every hand he’d shaken, every name he’d heard. He doesn’t know whose touch had sent him spiraling into this Loop, living out one of the most awkward (though not the worst, far from the worst) days he’s had in a long while.

It’s day three, or Loop Two, however you want to define it, and Tyler hasn’t seen any indication that there’s someone here with him. That’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? The two of them in a Loop together, running through that first day, carving out a space together.

But Tyler hasn’t seen anyone.

He’s played the first Loop as close as he could, hoping to cross paths with his— with his— with the person who could have triggered this whole thing.

Of course, close as he could was far from perfect, when the first time had been a blur of names and faces and the brief sensation of skin on skin. The first Loop, he lets his touch linger, holds handshakes just a shade too long, turns the fistbumps into awkward clasps, lets the hugs go on until the other person moves away.

It makes him feel open, exposed. It’s everything he’s tried to train himself out of—don’t look too long, don’t sit too close. Don’t be so _fucking gay,_ Tyler.

But while he gets a few strange looks—even things like a lingering handshake register in a place like the NHL—no one says anything. No one gives him any indication that they’re living this day for the second time.

And surely, of the players and the management and the trainers and the realtor, surely they can’t have had as many first meetings as he had. Well, maybe the realtor. Her name was Michelle, she had promised to find just the perfect place for him and left with a twist of her perfect ponytail. He doesn’t think it was her.

He wakes up the third day the same way he’d woken up on the first two, blinking sleep from his eyes when the cabin lights come on. He’s never been a fan of red-eye flights, but in light of the circumstances, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to spend half his loops on an airplane.

He tries to call his mom as he gets off the plane, before remembering that she and Candace had booked a spa day that would leave them incommunicado for the entire day. He’d even assured his mom it would be okay, he’s just call her the day _after_ he arrived. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and wishes he’d been more selfish about it.

Just like before, Jamie Benn is waiting for him on the other side of security. Just like before, Tyler is struck by the _breadth_ of him, the way he filled out his t-shirt. But this time, Tyler doesn’t shove that awareness down. Instead, he lets his gaze hold, takes his fill of Benn’s strong arms and defined chest and powerful thighs. If _this_ was his—was the reason he’s looping, it would be pretty damn great. It would be worth three days of having to navigate DFW.

But he’s met Benn before, he’s sure of that. That All-Star game was mostly a blur of complicated emotions and simple drinks, but he _has_ to have touched Jamie at some point, even by accident.

Benn coughs, drawing Tyler’s gaze back up to his face. And damn, nothing to complain about there either. A strong jawline, and large brown eyes. He had a slight flush to his cheeks, charming and sweet. Tyler had never gone after the kind of people who _blushed_ before. He’s willing to break that streak.

But.

But Benn just reaches out, holds out his hand. “Jamie Benn.” There is no recognition in his eyes. Nothing that could say that this is his third go around. So Tyler sucks up his disappointment and shakes Benn’s hand. It’s slightly clammy, but broad and strong against his own. “But, ah, you knew that.” Benn adds as he lets the handshake drop.

“I have heard the name before, somewhere,” Tyler says, grinning. It had been a bad joke the first two times, and it’s a bad joke now. But Benn still smiles, ducks his head. If Tyler’s frank and open appraisal has thrown him off, he doesn’t show it.

Maybe he’s willing to brush it off as jetlag and the early hour. Maybe he’s read as much of Tyler’s bad press as Tyler has, and thinks this is just how Tyler is. Which, he wouldn’t be _wrong_. Tyler just wouldn’t usually be this obvious—this stupid—about it.

“Tyler Seguin,” he offers.

“I should hope so,” Benn grins. Tyler grins back. The first time, his own grin had felt forced, drawn. The second time, hopeful. This time, it just feels natural. “Do you have luggage?”

Another indication that this is, to Benn’s knowledge, the first time they’ve done this.

“Two.”

Benn takes the lead, a route that Tyler is starting to think it the slowest way to get to baggage claim. He doesn’t comment, and follows him.

 

* * *

 

Benn has a terrible pick-up truck, which is so painfully Texan that Tyler hurts a little. “I hope you don’t mind, we’re going to meet some of the management. They wanted to say hello.” Tyler doesn’t buy that any more the third time around then he had the first.

He still lets Benn parade him through the practice space, shakes the hands of everyone they pass along the way, each time wondering, what if, what if.

There’s a trainer with a cute button nose and a determined set to her chin. An equipment manager with dark eyes and a strong jawline. Someone whose name and title he doesn’t catch, even three days in but who has the most beautiful red hair. All of them the kind of people who are around in the off-season, getting ready before camp starts. None of them look twice, give him more than the interested, curious looks of someone who has become accustomed to knowing minor celebrities.

He knows himself well enough to be pretty certain that whoever it is who triggered the Loop, it won’t be a woman, but he’s also seen enough movie to know that it doesn’t always work out like you might expect. And has much as Tyler wants, badly wants, it to be a romantic bond, he also knows that he wants don’t always factor into reality.

The meeting with management goes pretty much the same as before. They give him a polite and welcoming speech about settling in and being the right fit for the Stars, all underlaid with subtext about how he can’t pull the same stunts that had gotten him traded in Boston.

He knows that.

He knew that before he got the call. He _definitely_ knew it after he got the call, and the knowledge has lingered under his skin, in every breath and movement.

Tyler smiles and nods in the right places. His gaze doesn’t linger in here. He knows it technically _could_ be, but if it is— he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to have someone who looks at him like a disapproving father, who clasps his shoulder when he leaves and has crows feet at the corner of their eyes.

It’s not an age thing, he’s dated older people before, it’s just. There is something so _paternal_ about all of them. Even the women.

He takes a hat they give him—part of their new design and in _victory green_ —and smiles for a the camera.

Benn is waiting politely in the hall outside, and Tyler’s mouth twitches at the sight of him. He’s so _Canadian_ , in a way Tyler himself has never managed to be.

“You didn’t have to wait, dude.”

Benn shrugs and looks away, just enough to give them impression that yeah, he did, and that one of his new captianly duties includes babysitting Tyler. It’s nothing official yet, but it’s not like everyone doesn’t _know._

Maybe it’s for the better that he isn’t for Tyler. He may be—exactly Tyler’s type—good looking, but that’s doesn’t mean he won’t bore Tyler to sleep after a week together. Then Benn pushes himself off the wall, his arms flexing, and Tyler mentally adjusts it to a month.

He lets Benn take him to the same diner, lets himself blow his meal plan again. It matters even less this time than it had mattered before.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Benn offers, and Tyler already knows what will follow, “but I made an appointment with our realtor?” he says it like a question, and Tyler kind of wants to ask him if that’s a question or a statement, like a grammer school teacher. “Her name is Michelle, she’s great. She helped when I first moved here too.”

“Oh yeah?” Tyler tips his head back on the seat rest and lets the Dallas skyline pass him by. It’s nothing like the lights and the flash and the history of Boston, red brick buildings parked solidly next to soaring glass towers. He hadn’t thought that would be something he would like, but right now he misses it like a loose tooth. He keeps touching on the hurt, running his thoughts over it, waiting desperately for the moment where it won’t hurt at all.

“There’s also,” Benn hesitates, “well, I don’t know if you want it, but there’s also an apartment in the same building as me. And Jordie. My brother. We’re roommates.”

God, he’s so awkward. It’s even worse than the press conferences Tyler had watched. Had he been this bad the first two times? Tyler can’t remember.

“Sounds good, dude. I’ll take a look.” He had, too. It was fine. It looked like every other apartment. Michelle had promised to have a list for him soon, but he doesn’t think there will be anything that will really stand out. It’s _Texas._ What does Texas have to offer him anyway.

Benn clears his throat again. “Are you staying at a hotel?”

“Yeah. The Radisson? Off the freeway.” Dallas is 90% freeways. As directions go, it’s all but useless, but Jamie doesn’t press. Whatever. At the end of the night, Tyler will pull up the reservation on his phone and Benn will drop him off.

For now, he follows Benn up to his apartment and meets the older Benn for the third time. Jordie Benn is not quite as much Tyler’s type as Jamie Benn is, but he’s close. Tyler gives him the same once over he’d treated Benn Jr too. Unlike his brother, Jordie looks right back, tip to toes. It’s frank, assessing, but not sexual. Tyler is pretty good at knowing the difference. He’s had to be.

He quirks a brow at Jordie, silently asking. If Jordie sees the question, he doesn’t show it. He just holds out his hand for the same fist bump they’ve exchanged twice now, and Tyler raises his hand to make it three times.

Tyler had chattered nervously the first two times, wanting them to like him, wanting to belong here. This time, he tries to listen more. It’s fun, watching the two brothers interact. If this is going to be a pattern, he can’t keep calling Benn Benn, if only because there are two of them. He silently resigns himself to the name Jamie as he watches the man in question receive a noogie.

Like the last two times, Michelle is punctual. She shakes his hand politely but perfunctorily. He does give her a once over as well, but he tries to be classy about it. Evidence to the contrary, his mom raised him right. She doesn’t even seem to notice.

“I can show you the apartment downstairs now,” she offers, “and we can schedule future appointment over the next few days. I assume you’re looking to settle down quickly?”

Tyler barks a sharp laugh as her word choice, and regrets it when both Benns give him a weird look. “Something like that.”

He follows her to the elevator, even though, with only three floors between them, he’d rather take the stairs.

“Are you?” he asks as the elevator doors slide closed.

Michelle gives him a look through her eyelashes. She’s very pretty, in a professional kind of way. “Am I what?”

“Looking to settle down quickly?”

She rolls her eyes, just exasperated enough that he finds himself liking her more, rather than less. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

“You tell me.” He leans on the elevator wall, fully aware what a good picture he makes.

“I am,” she says slowly. Then she gives a dagger sharp smile. “That’s why I’m thinking about proposing to my girlfriend.”

Tyler puts his hands up in a ‘no harm meant’ gesture. “Cool, cool. Good luck.”

He’s deeply relieved when the elevator doors slide open.

 

* * *

 

After Michelle leaves him with her business card and a promise to call, he takes the stairs back up to the Benn apartment. It’s pretty cool that Jamie and Jordie get to live together. His sisters are in another country, growing up without him.

“Oh, hey,” Jordie says when he answers Tyler’s knock. He looks like he didn’t expect Tyler to come back.

“Hey, man. You said something about dinner?” Jordie hadn’t, but he’s pretty sure Jamie had. At some point. Tyler had eaten here the last two times, so he can’t be too wrong about it.

“Yeah, cool. Come in.” Jordie steps aside and Tyler moves past him into the apartment. He likes this apartment, thinks he would take this one over the one downstairs.

But then, that other apartment, empty and still, wouldn’t have a Stars hoodie slung over the back of the couch, or a leather lazyboy that had clearly been beaten into submission over years of use. It wouldn’t have the smell of cooking meat and the muted sound of country music coming from the radio.

Tyler thinks it over while he eats a fantastic steak cooked by one Jamie Benn. It would have been convenient, nice even, if it had been Benn. Either Benn, though he does have a preference. But it doesn’t make _sense_. Loops happen when you’ve fucked up. When you’ve either missed your soulmate entirely or made such a bad impression that the universe has to rewrite itself to make the pieces fit together.

He’ll be on a team with the Benns, either Benn, for years. Probably. At his stats, if he gets traded again, it’ll be a career ender. There’s no need for the universe to correct this. Any bad impression could surely be improved over years of time playing together, on the ice and shared roadies and team drinks.

Tyler downs the glass of wine at his elbow and excuses himself to call a cab.

He goes to sleep in a hotel room that is like every other hotel room he’s ever been in, and wakes up when the plane touches down in Dallas.

 

* * *

 

Tyler lasts a week before he snaps. Which, to his credit, is about six days more than he would have given himself at the offset.

Maybe the management’s speech about second chances and responsibility had sunk in after the second or third time. Maybe it was a testament to just how badly he wants this to work.

But by the end of the first week— a week of being picked up by Jamie Benn and talking to the Stars management and shaking hands and looking at that bland apartment three floors below Jamie’s— it’s starting to sink in that he may be well and truly stuck here. That his soulmate doesn’t know or doesn’t care who he is.

If it’s the former, he just needs to make himself known. Maybe playing it slow and safe has been the wrong move, nothing to indicate to anyone else that he’s in a Loop.

If it’s the latter— well. He better get used to airport food and steaks cooked by Jamie Benn.

(God, if he could just figure out who it is, he could try and prove them wrong, could make a good impression, could tell them _Look, I know. But give me a chance. I can do better. I can_ be _better._ )

The thing is— the thing is, it’s not like Loops are a new thing. They’re usually private, usually delicate things, held precious between two people. But, most people at least _know_ who they’re in with. They use the Loops to know one another, to get it right. To get it _perfect_. And then, when it’s safe and comfortable and _good_ , the Loops are broken with a kiss.

The Loops are subjects of movies, dramatic and comedic both. People don’t just get _stuck_. That doesn’t really happen, outside of the more melodramatic of the movies. And, a week isn’t that long. There’s no Guinness World Record for longest Loop, because there is no way to verify it, but he’s heard of people taking a year or longer to get it right.

His sisters love one movie, where the two people found one another right away and spent six months carefully not kissing as they lived in their own private world, getting closer and closer, falling in love one careful, secret day at a time.

Tyler would never admit it, but growing up, that’s all he had wanted for himself. It had seemed ike the perfect answer to the way that hockey took up his time and— later— to the knowledge that any love affair he had would need to be kept secret. He’s wanted a Loop— wanted a soulmate— for as long as he can remember.

Now, faced with the reality of it— the DFW terminal every morning and no one around who remembers him from day to day— Tyler just wants to get back to normal. He doesn’t want to take a year in this bubble, just him and no one else to share it with. He doesn’t know a single person here, doesn’t have friends around to spend the day with.

With that in mind, he calls Brownie the second they get permission from the pilot. It’s before dawn where Brownie is, but little things like sleep won’t stand in the way of their friendship.

Sure enough, Brownie answers after two rings, voice muddled with sleep. It’s still comforting to hear, still good to hear _anyone_ he knows.

“Huh?” Brownie says into the phone. That’s okay, Tyler is pretty sure what he has to say will wake him up in a hurry.

“Dude. I’m in my Loop.” He says it loud enough that a few people near him on the plane turn to look, but fuck them.

“Dude,” Brownie repeats. Then. “Dude!”

“I know!”

“How long—who is—where—dude!”

“Right!” Tyler agrees with him wholeheartedly. Over the phone, he can hear Brownie sitting up, coming more and more awake by the second.

“Are you in Dallas?”

“Still on the plane.” The person next to him is not being too subtle about listening him, but whatever. None of this matters.

“That’s lucky,” Brownie says. Tyler pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment, even though Brownie can’t see him. Brownie will _know_.

“How?”

“Well, you know. You just moved to Dallas and your soulmate is _here_. It’s not on some roadie. And you don’t even have to wait to find them! First day in the new town, and there they are!” Brownie is getting more and more into this as he goes. “They could show you around! Show you all the best bars and places to eat. You’re fucking set, man!”

Tyler hadn’t thought of it like that, hadn’t considered it as anything other than another part of his move to Dallas—something to handle and put a good face on for. And it’s a good thought, except—

“I don’t know who they are.”

The woman next to him draws in a sharp breath, and Tyler gives her a dirty look.

“Shit. How long?”

Tyler reflexively looks at his watch, which is stupid because it’s shown the same date for a week now. “About a week.”

Brownie whistles. “Shit man. Sorry. You got any theories?”

Tyler is actually terrified it’s someone he brushed arms with in passing, someone stuck in their own Loop and no way to contact them. He’s equally scared that it’s someone who politely shook his hand seven times and looked into his eyes and wanted nothing to do with him.

He’s not sure which is worse.

“Dude, I met so many people today. Like, the entire Stars management team, and the Benn brothers and a realestate agent and like, twelve trainers and—”

“Breathe,” Brownie cuts through his babble, like he always manages to do. “Take deep breaths, man.”

Tyler sucks in a deep breath, then another. He feels moderately better, but only by a little.

“Can I help?” Brownie asks, as Tyler breathes.

“I mean, obviously it would be good to see you. I’m just, so surrounded by strangers here.”

Brownie makes a considering noise. “Tell you what. I’ll look up some flights today and text you the info. You just remember it and send it to me next time you need me. I’ll be on the next plane down.”

This time, when Tyler stares at the phone, it’s with baffled amazement. “You’d do that?”

“Of course! You only Loop once, right?”

“Well,” Tyler says, and Brownie laughs. The plane has parked now, and everyone around him is starting to get up. Tyler lets them, doesn’t move as everyone around him collects their things.

“Just, maybe try and be less strangers, you know? At least with the Benns, right? They’re gonna be your teammates! You can get to know them what you wait for Mr Right. Work on that first impression.” Tyler makes a face. First impressions have never been his strong suit.

“That might take some time.”

“Dude. You’ve got nothing but time right now. Live it!”

“Yeah.” Tyler closes his eyes for a moment and takes another breath. “Thanks, dude. I gotta get off the plane, but. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Call me whenever you need.”

He means it, is the great thing. Brownie always means it when he says shit like that.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Jamie Benn is waiting for him on the other side of security. What would he do if Tyler plays hooky? Jamie always waits in the same place, it wouldn’t be too hard to get past him, to stay in the terminal until he gives up.

Instead, he thinks about what Brownie said, perfect that first impression.

“Hey, dude. You’re like, one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Can I suck your dick?”

That’s probably not what Brownie meant.

Still, it’s fun to watch the way Jamie’s face goes white, then red. At least he doesn’t go green, which had happened the one time Tyler had hit on someone who was unbelievably not into dick. Most people are at least open to getting their dick sucked.

“I, what. I.” Jamie just splutters at him, and it’s not like Tyler had _expected_ him to say yes. But it would have been nice. Soulmate or not, Jamie Benn is gorgeous. This is the point where Tyler would usually laugh, play it off as a joke.

He doesn’t. None of this _matters_.

Jamie does it for him, forcing an awkward laugh while Tyler unabashedly watches the line of his throat. “I, good one.”

He’s pretty sure that Jamie doesn’t really think it’s a joke, but if that’s how he needs to get through it, more power to him.

“I got a package,” Tyler says, laying the word heavy with innuendo just to see the face Jamie makes. He doesn’t disappoint, flushes pretty and delicate. The red on his face makes his eyes bright, and Tyler wants to lick him all over. Wants to see how far down his chest that blush goes. “At baggage claim,” Tyler adds after a moment.

“Oh. I. Yeah. Let’s.” Jamie turns and goes, once again, in the wrong direction. Tyler follows him, grinning. Maybe these loops don’t have to be so bad.

He still mostly sticks to the same route, presses a kiss to the hand of the pretty trainer, gives an extravagant wink to the equipment manager. Flirts his way through the rest of the day with no shame or remorse. Except. Except, every time he adds a new person to the roster, Jamie’s face goes a little darker.

Which. Whatever. It’s not like Tyler has to worry or care what he thinks. If he wants to flirt, wants to tell people that they look pretty, thats his right. It’s his Loop.

Still, he’s not too surprised when he gets out of the management meeting and Jamie isn’t waiting for him on the other side. He’s not sure if it’s the gay thing or the slut thing or just the Tyler thing, he’s heard every variant of it before, but he doesn’t care. Fuck Jamie Benn. Tyler can make a better impression next time.

Tyler sees himself to a club. Jamie still has his luggage in the back of his overcompensating truck, but what the hell ever.

Tyler goes to the club, and drink, and dances, and kisses strangers and drinks some more.

He still wakes up on the plane.

He didn’t really expect otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“You must by Jamie Benn. I’d know an ass like that anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey baby, are you a parking ticket? Because you have _fine_ written all over you.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow. If they wanted to trade me to Dallas, they could have just sent your picture. I would have come over _months_ ago.”

 

* * *

 

So, Tyler is having a fun time hitting on Jamie Benn, who may not be for him but blushes so pretty.

Except. Except that every time he leads with hitting on Jamie, Jamie ditches him at the management meeting. And. Well. Even Tyler can only spend so much time at bars, with the rest of his days left to kill. And he’s starting feel like a bit of a dick about it. He doesn’t make it a habit of hitting on people who say no, and even if Jamie hasn’t actually _said_ no, he’s clearly not too happy with Tyler’s advances. He thinks they’re a joke, but it’s also clearly a joke he doesn’t find funny.

Tyler can take a hint. He may take a few Loops ignoring the hints, but. Hey. He’s asshole, but he’s not that kind of asshole.

Besides. He should be focusing on finding his soulmate and getting out of these Loops, not making his new Captain uncomfortable.

(And if he was hoping, if he thought that maybe one time, Jamie would think he was serious, would lean into him instead of step away—well. That doesn’t matter. Jamie Benn is not for him.)

One last time. One more, for the road.

Jamie is waiting for him again, and his face goes so violently red when he sees Tyler that Tyler badly wants to think he remembers. But then, he surely would have said something by now. It’s not as though Tyler’s being subtle about it himself. Besides, he’s pretty sure he remembers Jamie Benn blushing before. Not this badly, sure, but it’s not entirely new.

He’s playing with his variables now, trying to see which buttons to push in which order. He wants to see if he can push them just hard enough and still have Jamie stick around. For science.

“Hey, baby,” Tyler says, croons, really. “You look like you know how to show a guy a good time.”

Jamie actually yelps, which is a goddamn delight. “I! Jamie Benn. Captain. Hi!”

He shoves his hand between the two of them, and Tyler’s never been rejected with a handshake before. It’s cute.

“Oh yeah, I can call you Captain, if you’re into that.”

God, this is probably mean. Jamie looks like his head might actually explode.

“You—I. I’m Captain. Of the Stars. Welcome to the team.” He all but shouts that last bit, voice getting higher.

“Oh, sweet.” Tyler shakes his hand, letting his hand linger. “I love a man who can boss me around.” Granted, that’s true, but he’s mostly just seeing if Jamie will actually pass out if he keeps pushing. Mean, sure, but it’s not like he’s overwhelmed with choices for entertainment.

Jamie yanks his hand back, then takes another step away from Tyler. It is, frankly, hurtful. Jamie then very clearly takes two deep breaths.

“How was your flight?” he asks, voice strained.

Tyler takes pity on him. “It was fine.”

“We should, uh, head out?” He says it like a question again. “The, you know, the Stars management. Wants to say hi?”

“Ooh, you got some plans for me, big boy?” Tyler asks.

This time the look on Jamie’s face is distinctly horror, but then, invoking the Stars Management might have crossed a line.

Jamie turns and, as always, heads the long way towards baggage claim. He whistles when Jamie turns away.

“Damn, son. Hockey has been good to you.”

Jamie makes a reflexive move to put his hands behind his back and, Tyler is pretty sure, try to cover his ass. Not that it would work because _damn_. But Jamie catches himself in time, tries to play the move off as a stretch. Tyler doesn’t bother to hide his grin.

 

* * *

 

Well. The answer to ‘how far can he push Jamie’ is clearly, not very. It’s fine. Tyler is fine with that. Yeah, Jamie Benn is incredibly hot and incredibly Tyler’s type and has arms that could pin him down and keep him there, and—

Anyway.

Yeah, it would have been nice to take that for a spin while it wouldn’t, like, effect team chemistry and shit, but Jamie clearly isn’t down and Tyler will respect that. Maybe once they’re like, bros, Tyler can flirt just a little and Jamie will think he’s joking but won’t run away and let Tyler get close and—

God, why is he so obsessed with this? There are plenty of people left who could have triggered the Loop. Just because Jamie was the first possibility doesn’t mean that Tyler needs to fixate on him.

He tells all of this to an unsympthetic Brownie.

“Dude, think of it this way. You learned like, 10 different ways not to make a lightbulb. How to extremely alienate your Captain, by Tyler Sequin. Now when you gotta do this for real, you won’t come out of the gate so strong.”

And maybe by the time he does this for real, Jamie’s arms will be considerably less distracting.

So on the next Loop, he ignores how red Jamie’s face is like a motherfucking champion, politely shakes his hand and follows him the wrong way to baggage claim once again.

He does up the flirting with everyone else by like, 1000%, because he’s not here to be a hero, okay? He’s here to get shit done.

It must be pretty bad, because Jamie actually follows him into the meeting this time, and Tyler wonders if he thinks Tyler is going to hit on Jim Nill and is planning to like, bodily tackle him to the ground to prevent it. It’s a fun image. He gives Jamie a wink over Jim’s shoulder and Jamie puts his head in his hands, apparently in despair.

It does settle one thing. If Jamie here in the meeting, it means he can’t run. It means he doesn’t plan to. Which is. Huh. He’s not sure what to do with that.

Still, having him around through the meeting does make it a bit more fun. He shifts a look at Jamie every time they say something about behaving himself and taking this seriously. At one point, he brushes his foot along Jamie’s leg, and Jamie jerks back so violently he almost upsets his chair, and Tyler almost breaks something trying not to laugh.

Okay, so maybe he’s not as much of a champion as he’d like to be. He’s like, weening himself off slowly. Like a twelve step program.

The best part is, he didn’t even scare Jamie off this time, since Jamie still ushers Tyler to his truck and drives him over to the Benn apartment.

This time, Jordie is waiting at the door, and Tyler suspects that Jamie had texted him ahead of time, maybe warned him.

This suspicion is confirmed when Jordie crosses his arms over his chest and says, “What are your intentions towards my baby brother?”

“Jesus, Jordie,” Jamie says, shouldering past Jordie hard enough to make him move, which, for a hockey player built like Jordie is, is no mean feat.

Tyler shrugs. He’s immediate answer, ‘I have intentions towards his _ass_ ’ feel inappropriate now. Embarrassing and flustering Jamie is one thing. Doing in front of family is another. Even if none of this matters, it’s still—it matters to Tyler. He can make those kinds of calls for himself. It’s different doing it to someone else. Meaner, somehow.

So he just shrugs. “I don’t know. What are your brothers intentions towards _me._ ” He’s pretty sure that the answer to that is ‘nothing’ or maybe ‘get you to stop being a terrible person and focus on hockey,’ which he knows but doesn’t really want to hear.

“He’s gonna whip you into shape,” Jordie says, and he seems to be sincere, and Tyler can’t. He just cannot resist an opening like that.

“Sounds like a good time,” he says easily, and hears something clatter in the kitchen.

Jordie cackles, and Tyler realizes that the opening had not only been deliberate, but aimed at _Jamie_.

Tyler grins back. He could get used to this place. To these people.

If only he was allowed to.

 

* * *

 

Tyler wakes up the next day, breathing recycled air, and thinks that he is never going to get a chance to find out. He’s going to be living this Loop forver, until he fucking dies. He’s stuck here, without a soulmate, or with a soulmate who doesn’t want him, or with a soulmate he touched in passing and will never find again, and he’ll stay in the Loops until his mind fucking breaks.

He calls Brownie and stays on the phone until they kick him off the plane.

Then he parks himself in the airport bar and drinks until he passes out.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up again, he doesn’t have a hangover, which is a hell of a trick, but he feels like he should, which is wrecking it’s own kind of havoc on his body. He calls Brownie again and tells him to be on the next flight to Dallas and that past-Brownie had signed off and given the flight info.

Brownie, the best person Tyler has ever known, does it.

He stays with Tyler all through the drive and up until he has to go through security and makes Tyler promise not to get too drunk, if Brownie is flying all the way out there.

Tyler has two vodka cranberries and a terrible American beer that tastes like piss and then stops. There’s no point in leaving the airport, since Brownie will be here soon. He spares a single, distant thought for proper, Canadian Jamie Benn, probably still waiting out in the other side of security, and can’t make himself care.

Can’t muster up an ounce of sympathy for anyone who isn’t him right now.

He waits most the day for Brownie, board out of mind but no worse than it’s been the entire rest of his time here, reliving the same days over and over like a good little boy when there’s no _fucking_ point to it all.

He buys a book from the airport bookstore. He’s pretty sure it’s a kids book, but it’s better than any of the giant books with small text that will put him to sleep. In this one, kids fight monsters with swords and he gets to learn about Greek mythology, which is way more fucked up than he remembers.

When Brownie comes off his flight, still sleep mussed and carrying hardly more than the close on his back, Tyler almost cries.

He can’t _believe_ that Brownie came all the way out here, for him, and that thought it almost better that Brownie’s company.

“If you weren’t straight and I were even the smallest bit attracted to you, I would marry the shit out of you,” Tyler says, low and sincere into Brownie’s neck.

“Nah, man,” Brownie replies, cupping the back of Tyler’s head. “You have to find this soulmate of yours.”

Tyler laughs, a little bitter, a little broken. “I don’t know if I’m going to. I don’t think. Brownie, I don’t think they want me.”

“Impossible,” Brownie says firmly.

Tyler has never understood Brownie. Brownie, who has seen at some of his worst moments and isn’t even related to him, and loves him anyway.

“It’s not like I’ve been subtle. If anyone else is here, they would’ve seen, could’ve said something.” He feels the blood drain out of his face. “What if I don’t even have a soulmate? What if it’s just me in here? And I just have to live like this, forever. Living in the airport, like that Tom Hanks movie!” He’s getting more and more worked up, can feel it, hear it in his voice. He pulls out of the hug so that he can breathe. “What if its an unrequited bond? And I’m here and they’re not and I’ll never even know.”

Brownie reaches out and grabs Tyler’s flailing hands. “Dude. Breathe.”

Tyler sucks in one desperate breath after another.

“Cool. Let’s go to the Chili’s and sit down and get some nachos and talk, okay?”

Tyler tries not to register his surprise. Sure, of the two of them, Brownie is more mature, but that's only because it sure as hell isn’t going to be Tyler. It’s more of a default position then an earned one. But now. Brownie’s like a real adult, talking about breathing and getting food and shit.

Tyler holds it together while the waitress leads them to a shaded booth, his leg jumping up and down in barely contained panic. He’s going to die in a fucking airport like Tom Hanks. He’s pretty sure that's how the movie ended.

He says as much to Brownie.

“Okay, first of all. You’re not going to die in an airport. You can leave the airport whenever you want. You’ve already done it, what, ten times?”

“Fourteen Times. Two full fucking weeks.”

“Fourteen times, then. Second of all, Tom Hanks didn’t die in the airport. And, unlike you, he couldn’t leave the airport. He was banned from leaving because of a military coup in his country, not in a soul Loop.” At Tyler’s face, he adds, “What, I know things.”

“Yeah, okay, fine, I’ll die in the hot terrible streets of Dallas, alone,” Tyler moans, dropping his head onto the table. He has to pick it back up the next second when the waitress comes by so he can morosely order his nachos. He hasn’t had nachos since he was 13 and started following a strict meal plan.

Brownie orders a burger and gives Tyler’s head a patronizing pat on the head when Tyler drops it back down.

“You’re not going to die alone. Or, I mean, you might. I don’t know your life. But it won’t be because of a Loop gone wrong. They’re supposed to help you.”

“Some help,” Tyler mutters.

“If you can’t find your soulmate, look for other things to improve while you wait. Make a good impression on your new teammates. Dazzle Jim Nill. Learn what not to do now, then remember not to do it next time.”

Tyler makes a face. “That's what you said last time.”

“You should listen to me more,” Brownie says smugly.

“It’s just so boring!” Tyler whines. “I can only listen to so many lectures about being a big boy and not sending dick picks.”

Brownie gives him a very unimpressed look. “Then be a big boy, and don’t send any dick pics.”

“Brownie,” Tyler whines.

“That’s my advice, dude. You paid for me to come all the way out here for it.”

At which point the food comes, so Tyler doesn’t have to admit Brownie has a point.

“Seriously, though,” Brownie says. “Please stop sending me pictures of your dick. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve but I don’t want them.”

Tyler takes a bitter, angry bite of his nachos. They’re fantastic.

 

* * *

 

There is a staple to the Loop-com genre that Tyler has always wanted to play into, so he figures he may as well indulge himself. Between two sisters, his mom and Tyler’s own romantic streak, Tyler has seen _a lot_ of Loop movies. He prefers the comedies over the sad ones him mom likes, or the goopy ones his sisters like, but he’s still seen a considerable amount of the genre, so he knows exactly what to do.

He spends over a week living as close to the original timeline as he can remember, which includes lunch after the signing. The diner isn’t too far from the practice rink, and it’s got enough meal-plan staples that Tyler is willing to bet it’s a team haunt during the season.

He orders something different each time, and watches the people around him. He makes idle conversation with Jamie and wrestles playfully over the ketchup (Jamie puts it on _everything,_ it’s horrifying) and makes note of when the waitress trips, when the kid with the balloon comes through the door, when the man in the booth over starts complaining about his toast being too toasted—and then when he starts complaining over the second batch not being toasted enough.

When he’s confident he has it down, he can hardly keep from grinning all through the management meeting.

“You’re in a good mood,” Jamie says, amused, as Tyler all but bounces in the passenger seat.

“New hat,” Tyler says by way of explanation. He’s already twisted it around to sit backwards on his head.

“Uh-huh. Hungry?”

“Starving,” Tyler replies, trying not to seem too excited.

He barely waits until they sit down before he breaks.

“So, Jamie.”

“So, Tyler,” Jamie replies, clearly humoring him.

“I should probably tell you. I mean, I think you should know,” Tyler takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. “I’m in my Loop. Like, right now.”

Jamie opens and closes his mouth, looking stunned. “Oh.” His voice comes out hoarse, choked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. First day in Dallas, too.” When Jamie continues to stare at him, he adds, “I can prove it.” He nods to the menu. “You’re about to order scrambled eggs with bacon, even though you only eat one piece of bacon. You’re going to drown the entire thing in ketchup, a really horrifying amount of ketchup. And then halfway through eating, you’re going to remember you’re a growing boy and a professional hockey player, and order another thing of eggs and a stack of pancakes, which you will swear me to secrecy on. Oh, and Karen is about to drop her tray.”

On cue, Karen—mother of two, divorced, calls Tyler sugar—drops her tray with a loud clatter.

“Why—” Jamie swallows. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I could tell you more,” Tyler says, grinning. “I could lay out the next forty-five minutes if you want.”

“That’s not—I _believe_ you, that’s not the issue!”

Something in Jamie’s tone makes Tyler start paying attention. He sounds wound tight, about to break, and Tyler can’t possibly imagine _why._ “What is the issue?” he asks carefully.

Jamie just stares at him, and his face has gone shock white. He looks like someone pulled the plug on him, face blank and eyes wide. He looks like the worst press interview he’s ever done, and Tyler doesn’t know what he’s _done._

Then Jamie pushes himself to his feet and sidles awkwardly out of the booth. “I have to go.”

“I— _what?”_ Tyler says, getting to his own feet.

“I need to—sorry. I just can’t.”

Tyler watches him go, not sure where he went wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Behind him, the man at the next booth starts complaining about his toast.

 

* * *

 

On the next Loop Tyler shoulders his way off the plane first this time, and all but drops his bags the second he gets through the gate, heading to the announcement center. He doesn’t quite shove the girl out of the way, but only because she wasn’t directly blocking it in the first place.

He leans directly into the microphone and says “Hello, I’m on a Loop. If you are also in a Loop, please meet me at Gate 7B.”

And then he steps back. He’s garnered the attention of almost every person in the terminal. After a moment, they break out into an awkward smattering of applause. He bows.

He is only waiting about 10 minutes before someone comes up to him, slightly out of breath. He’s not Tyler’s usual type, thin and distinctly hipster, with dark red pants and a knit sweater.

“Hey,” he says. “Did you—was that you, in a Loop?”

It turns out that the man is named Simon, that he’s on his way to Chicago and that this is his 9th time though the Loop. Tyler doesn’t envy him 9 times on an airplane, not knowing if the contact was made at DFW or O’Hare.

It’s pretty clear immediately that they’re not here for one another, but it’s nice enough to talk to someone who _gets_ it.

“It’s just hard, you know,” Tyler says woefully. They’ve taken over a small table at an airport cafe and have been talking for at least twenty minutes.

“I guess,” Simon says, equally morose. “At least you know what state you’re supposed to be in.”

“Oh shit, your flight!”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve missed it a few times now. I don’t care. It’s a pain anyway. I’m pretty sure it’s not anyone on the plane now, so—sometimes I just don’t want to spend three hours squeezed in the middle row. My seatmate snores.”

“Bummer, dude.”

“Yeah.” Simon stares into his coffee. “So, do you, like, live here?”

Tyler opens his mouth to say, no, he’s from Boston, then he closes it. “Yeah, I guess I do. I just—first day here, you know.”

Simon whistles. “Damn, that’s lucky. First day in a new city, and you’re already got a soulmate?”

Tyler shrugs, uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess. If they—I mean. I met a lot of people, but no one seems to—no one is exactly stepping up, you know.”

Simon places his hand on Tyler’s arm, and Tyler has a brief moment of panic— don’t let people see you touch, don’t let go out in public, definitely don’t be seen someone as throughly _out_ as Simon is.

“It’ll work out.”

“Yeah?”

Simon grins. “Well, that, or we’ll both die alone in a Loop.”

“Cheers.” Tyler taps his cup against Simon’s. “You local?”

“Yeah. I was just visiting my sister in Chicago. She’s the lucky one, she got out.”

Tyler doesn’t quite understand that. If you want to leave, you leave. Right? But then, Tyler’s stuck here in Dallas too, so what does he know.

“Is is hard? To be,” he gestures at Simon, trying not to say ‘so fucking gay in Texas,’ because he can sometimes be a dick about things like that, but he tries not to do it to peoples faces. He doesn’t want to make assumptions, because god knows Tyler isn’t everyone’s idea of a guy who likes to be fucked, but Simon is pretty goddamn gay looking.

Simon makes a face. “I mean, it’s not _easy_. But it’s not impossible. It’s not like it used to be.” He leans forward across the table. “Did you know they’re saying Texas might go blue within the next three elections?”

“No way.”

“Way.” Simon taps his fingers on the rim of his cup, and Tyler’s eyes are drawn to the long lines of him. He’s not Tyler’s type, but that’s never stopped him before, and he’s always liked good hands. Soft hands. “It’s not Austin, you know? But it’s not the sticks either. Dallas is a pretty big city. It’s got a scene, you know.” He gives Tyler a speculative look. “You want the name of a bar?”

Tyler does, badly. But he also knows better than to shit where he eats. He can pick up dudes, sometimes, if he’s careful about it. But he does it in cities that don’t care about hockey. He does it in places where no one knows his name. He can’t ever, ever pick up dudes his home city.

“Nah,” he waves Simon off. “I’m good.”

“Sure?”

No. “Yeah, ‘course.” He hesitates. “Do you think we’ll both remember this?”

“Like, are our Loops overlapping?” Simon looks intrigued. “I mean. Probably? So like, we’re not in the same Loop, obviously.” Obviously, because you’re only ever in the same Loop with one person, for the same amount of time, “So in theory, no, we wouldn’t, because we just happen to overlap. But if like, if I remember today when it’s the next Loop, and you remember today when it’s the next Loop, why wouldn’t we?”

This is getting to a level of speculation thats a bit over Tyler’s head. He’s not dumb, by any means, but this is so much more _thought_ then he likes to put into anything other than hockey.

“But what if like, on the next Loop, I remember this but I meet a version of you that like, doesn’t. Like you in my Loop reset like everyone else. And the me in your Loop resets too.”

Simon frowns. “I guess we’ll have to see. We should meet up again.”

“What, tomorrow?”

“For a given definition of tomorrow, anyway.”

“Sure. Why the hell not. Maybe we can ditch some time, you can show me around Dallas.”

Simon holds out his hand. “Deal.”

Tyler shakes it, abruptly aware this is the first hand he’s shaken outside of those original first meetings on Day 1.

“Got somewhere to be?” Simon asks. Tyler glances down at his watch. There is no way Jamie is still waiting for him. Maybe that’s for the best.

“Nah. But I think I might, you know.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“Yeah, cool, cool.” Simon glances at his own watch, an old-fashioned thing that he probably found at Hipster R’ Us or a Goodwill or something. “There’s a layover to Chicago I can usually get on.”

“Good luck,” Tyler holds out a hand to fist bump. Simon obliges him.

“See you,” Simon replies. “Or, you know, not.”

 

* * *

 

Tyler is pretty much ready to put this day down as a loss, to skip the management and the Benn brothers and all the stupid responsibility that comes with being a hockey player on the last legs of his young career, needing to make a good impression or perish. He’s still not sure what he did to set Jamie off, and he’s not sure he wants to face him anyway. It’s not Jamie’s _fault_ , but Tyler had been looking forward to that reveal, and the disappointing reality, the space where his expectations had lived, has left him feeling off balance.

So he’s pretty shocked when he steps out of the terminal to see Jamie fucking Benn waiting for him. It’s been over an _hour_ since his flight landed. What if he had played hooky for real, slipping past Jamie and out into Dallas. Would Jamie have waited all day? Has Jamie waited all day _before_?

The thought makes his stomach surge with uncomfortable guilt, which he tries to shrug off. Jamie isn’t looking at the terminal like he had over the past week, instead focusing on his phone.

“Hey, man. You’re Jamie Benn, right?”

Jamie’s head snap up, and the look he gives Tyler is—

Tyler doesn’t know how to read it. Jamie looks—not happy. Surprised, a bit confused. A bit pleased.

It’s the pleased that startles Tyler. Jamie doesn’t remember Tyler, only knows him as the asshole who just made him wait for an hour at fucking DFW of all places. But still, he’s pleased.

“Yeah. You’re Seguin.”

“Segs is fine. Or Seggy.” It’s the first time he’s said that, feels like Jamie might have earned something just for waiting this long. Something besides Tyler’s fake smile and grudging acceptance. Something besides being blatantly hit on, when it so clearly makes him uncomfortable.

Which is, you know, a shame. Because Tyler likes watching him blush, likes the way he gets flustered and stutters out an answer and keeps bringing Tyler back to his apartment like he doesn’t hate Tyler because of it. Tyler had killed more than one friendship in the Juniors by confusing friendliness with something else, and if even his worst lines aren’t throwing Jamie off, maybe nothing will.

It’s a nice thought.

It’s the kind of thought that could make Dallas worth it.

“What’s the plan?” Tyler asks. “We should probably go by baggage claim.” If they haven’t tossed out his luggage by now.

“Yeah, sure. We should—we weren’t expecting you to be so late, you know. There’s the signing, and, you know, general meeting—”

“Mr. Seguin, we’re happy to have you join the Stars, and we’re sure you’ll be a valuable player, but the sort of behavior you exhibited off the ice is not the best representation of our brand. We know that you can do better,” Tyler rattles off in a pompous imitation of Jim Nill.

Jamie shoots him a surprised look. “Uh. I mean. They might not put it like that?”

They very much would. That’s almost verbatim what Tyler has heard before. He shrugs. “I mean, at least it’s not ‘you’re a failure and a disappointment and honestly this is your last chance so don’t fuck it up.’”

Jamie stops and grabs Tyler’s arm, turning Tyler to face him. “Hey, man, no one thinks that.”

Tyler quirks an eyebrow, because yeah, they really do. He’s read his own press. One article had actually called him ‘the Stars’ problem now.’

Jamie grimaces. “Well. Let’s prove them wrong.”

Tyler’s heart surges, terrible and unexpected. He reaches out and clasps Jamie’s shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

This time, when Jamie moves to go the wrong way to the baggage claim, Tyler stops him. “I think this way might be faster,” he says, indicating the other turns.

“Yeah?” Jamie says, like he’s skeptical, but his face is all humor.

“Yep.”

“Well then. Lead on.”

Tyler feels a smile break out on his face, and even the thought of going through another session with management can’t bring him down.

 

* * *

 

This lasts until about the time he climbs into Jamie’s stupid car and they make all the turns to get to the center.

“Hey, man.” Tyler says, and maybe this a day for variants and chances, because the second he opens his mouth, it feels right. “Do you think. I mean, you already said we were late. How do you feel about playing hooky and going for a skate?”

He’s desperate for the feel of the ice beneath his feet. His body isn’t changing, he’s not really getting out of shape, but this is the longest he’s gone without skating since his last injury and he hates it. Not skating means that something is _wrong_ , that he’s hurt or damaged or broken, and he can’t stand it.

He’s honestly expecting Jamie, straight laced, captainly Jamie Benn, to say no. He’s fully prepared to beg and wheedle and, if needed, ditch dinner and go to a local rink after the meeting anyway.

But Jamie gives him a long look at the next red light, speculative and thoughtful. “Yeah. That sounds—yeah.”

Tyler just stares at him.

“What.”

Jamie grins, and it’s the most honest expression Tyler’s seen on him so far. “I said yeah, lets go. I’ll text Jim and Katie when we get there. I already told them we’d be late anyway.”

“I—wow. Thank you.”

Jamie glaces at him. “Been awhile?”

“You have no idea.”

Tyler doesn’t know Dallas well, but he knows it enough to recognize when they’ve deviated from Jamie’s usual route. Jamie is clearly comfortable with the streets, with the insane freeways stacked four high in improbable configurations. It’s not too long before they pull up outside a slightly rundown rink.

“I figured you don’t want them to ambush you,” Jamie says by way of explanation. “There’s never anyone here.”

Tyler tries not to wrinkle his nose too obviously. “I can see why.”

“Hey now,” Jamie says, but he’s laughing.

The doors squeak when they open, and Tyler gives Jamie another pointed look, which prompts Jamie to shoulder him. It’s nice. Familiar. It doesn’t feel like he’s meeting Jamie for the first time. Like Jamie is meeting him for the first time.

Jamie asks for two tickets at the counter. He winks at Tyler when the cashier doesn’t even look up.

“Did you bring your own—holy shit.”

And there it is.

“We have our own skates,” Tyler says. He’d grabbed his suitcase out of the back, and Jamie apparently always keeps skates in his car. Which is weird, but whatever. Tyler’s stuff always starts to stink if he leaves it in a car too long. Not to mention the car itself.

“Uh-huh.” The girl just nods. “Uh. That’ll be $16.33?” She looks like she can’t believe she’s going to charge them. Jamie grins, and slides a twenty across the counter. “Keep the change.”

It’s hardly NHL ice, but it’s ice, and that’s what matters. Tyler hadn’t even brought the rest of his gear in.

He gets his skates most of the way laced up, sees Jamie is lagging behind him and yells “Last one on is a rotten egg!”

It’s a race to get his left boot laced before Jamie gets his, and they both scramble for the door to the ice itself. Tyler makes it by a hair, and throws his hands up in a subdued celly.

“Cheater,” Jamie says cheerfully.

“You’re just saying that because you lost.”

“No, I’m saying it because you cheated.”

“Fine. Race you to the net and back.” He points, so there’s no confusion that he means the further net. Speed has never been something struggles with.

He looks over at Jamie and sees that same spark of competition in his eyes.

“On three?” Jamie asks.

“On three.”

They both move on two, and Tyler laughs in shocked delight as he finds himself looking at Jamie’s back. “Cheater!” he calls, putting on extra speed. God, it’s distracting to watch the way Jamie’s legs move under his jeans, strong and powerful without gear getting in the way.

They both tap the top of the net at the same second.

“You cheated,” Tyler says, forcing the words out through giggles.

“You cheated first,” Jamie says, but he can’t hide the laughter in his own eyes.

Tyler makes a ‘talk, talk, talk’ motion with his hand, and Jamie bursts into laughter. He really is—

Tyler forces his gaze away.

“I’m gonna,” he hooks his thumb at the rest of the rink, turning away.

He spends at least ten minutes just turning slow circles and figure eights, just feeling the ice under his blades, the sharp, cold smell of the air. He didn’t realize how much he had missed this. He’s been doing this now for, God, almost three weeks. He’s had relationships that didn’t last that long.

What will he do if he’s stuck like this for months, years? Never able to play another hockey game, never able to prove Boston wrong about him. Never able to prove to Jamie Benn that maybe that trust and belief Tyler had seen at the airport this morning was worth it.

When he shakes himself out of it, Jamie isn’t on the ice anymore, is leaning over the boards, just watching him.

“What’s up?” Tyler skates over to him, leaning on the other side of the boards.

“Nothing,” Jamie looks thoughtful. “I just—I didn’t realize.”

“Huh?”

“You’re good.”

That surprises a laugh out of Tyler, and he slugs Jamie in the shoulder. “Yeah, I should fucking hope so.”

“No, I mean.” He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t even doing—I was just _skating._ ”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, like Tyler has proved his point. “I know.”

His expression is intent, focused. It feels like being an ant under a microscope, burning and overwhelming, ready to set Tyler aflame.

He looks away, steps back.

“I can do better,” he says. “I’m going to do better.”

He doesn’t mean his skating.

“I know,” Jamie says, voice soft. Tyler thinks he really might.

 

* * *

 

Tyler doesn’t feel a moments guilt about skipping out on management. Jamie doesn’t mention it, and Tyler certainly isn’t going to. It’s the captain’s job to be the responsible one. Everyone knows it’s not going to be Tyler.

Instead, Jamie takes them both to a steak restaurant. It takes an effort of will for Tyler not to ask about the diner they went to the other fourteen times, and he’d worked his way through half the first page.

Maybe it’s that it’s dinner, not lunch. Maybe it’s that it’s a darker restaurant, or maybe it’s just that Tyler and Jamie have skated together now. Tyler has always connected with people on the ice than out in the world. It was only halfhearted skating, no pads and no checking and neither of them with a puck or a stick. But still. There is something about being on the ice with someone, feeling the same cold in your lungs, the same ice under your feet. The same view of the stands, however generously the term may be applied.

Whatever the reason, this setting feels more intimate, quieter. A small world, shared between the two of them, in the confines of this booth and this space.

And the thing is. The thing that he hadn’t noticed, over the past two weeks of sulking over his trade and flirting with any person who could be eligible and making Jamie Benn blush, is that he and Jamie _click_.

Maybe it’s that Tyler does know him better, if two weeks of the same idle small talk really count as better, but this time, the conversation flows. Jamie doesn’t ask him anything about Boston, and Tyler doesn’t say anything about the Olympics and for the first time he entertains more than the idea that he can make this work.

For the first time it occurs to him that he might _like_ it here.

 

* * *

 

That realization almost makes it worse when he blinks awake on the plane. He hadn’t expected to like Dallas, not after the energy of Boston and the high of a Cup win, but he does. He wants _more_. He wants to get to know Jamie better, watch him and Jordie chirp one another. He wants to meet the rest of his new team and get a victory green sweater with his name on it and step back onto NHL ice. Instead, he’s still in the fucking DFW terminal.

Tyler takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe. He’s tired. He’s so tired. Has he even really slept while he’s been here, or does he wake up the second after he closes his eyes in a previous Loop. Maybe he can work it so that he can spend an entire day sleeping. He still has that hotel room at the Raddisson he never uses.

Then he pulls himself out of his seat and off the plane.

Simon is waiting on the other side of the gate, and Tyler feels his eyebrows shoot up. He’s actually forgotten about Simon for a bit there. He’d just—forgotten about the one other person who could remember the previous day.

Simon waves when he sees Tyler, and Tyler waves back, hesitant. He hadn’t let himself think about it yesterday, but he’s keenly aware of eyes on him. They might not recognize him, might not know who he is. But Simon is so, _so_ very visibly gay and Tyler feels his skin itch with the awareness of him. With what people will say, will think.

Then he firmly reminds himself that none of this even matters, so he shoves the thought away and lets himself hug Simon back.

“So you do remember,” Simon says.

“Apparently.”

Without talking about it, they head towards the same cafe as before. “Have you ever heard of something like this happening before? Two people sharing a Loop but not being soulmates?” Tyler asks.

“How do you know we’re not?” Simon asks, waggling his eyebrows. Tyler shuffles for a moment, uncomfortable, but Simon starts to grin. “I’m kidding. We started at different times. We’re not really sharing Loops anyway.”

They both order, and head to a secluded table.

“I don’t actually think we’re in the same Loop,” Simon continues, “We’re just in overlapping Loops. Like a venn diagram, you know? I mean, yeah, it’s rare, I think the chances are probably 1 in three million. But we’re in an airport. At least 500,000 people pass through DFW every day. If it were going to happen, it kinda makes sense that it happens here.”

“Hm.” It’s becoming very clear that Simon is a lot smarter than Tyler is, so he takes Simon’s word for it.

“How was your last Loop? Any leads on your person?”

Tyler shrugs. “No leads, but it was. It was good.” He can’t help but think of Jamie’s smile, the way he moved on the ice. Oh fuck. Jamie. “Shit, I gotta—” he pulls out his phone, thinking of how long Jamie had waited yesterday, no guarantee that Tyler would be coming.

Jamie had texted once, when his trade had been made public. Tyler had never responded, but he’d saved the number.

_Hey dude flight L8, see you in hour?_

He’s typed out that last bit without even thinking, and he has to stare at his phone for a moment. He hadn’t meant to—he hadn’t planned to—

But he doesn’t regret it. He _does_ want to see Jamie again. Wants to skate with him, eat dinner with him. Share that easy, smooth conversation with him.

“Anything I should know?” Simon asks, and he’s smirking across the table at Tyler.

“No. I just—there is someone waiting. To pick me up. I let him know I’d be late.” It won’t work if Jamie even sort of thinks about it, since Tyler wouldn’t have been able to text from the air, and if he was only just not relaying a flight delay, it would be way over an hour for the trip. He’s hoping Jamie will take it at face value.

“You didn’t say anything about them yesterday.”

Tyler shrugs, uncomfortable. “I’m kind of a dick. I didn’t even think about them yesterday. But they were still waiting, after almost an hour and. I don’t know. I didn’t want to do it again.” He can’t help thinking about all the days he’s skipped out completely, the days he’s gotten too wasted to leave the airport, the day with Brownie. That one day he spent in airport security. Did Jamie wait that long on each of those days? How long did he sit there, playing on his phone, waiting for a new teammate that wasn’t coming.

His phone buzzes. _OK :)_

He smiles down at it.

“You sure there’s nothing?” Simon asks, resting his chin on his hand.

“Fuck off,” Tyler responds. “Do you have a boy in mind?”

Simon’s face falls, and Tyler does feel a bit bad about it. “No.”

They talk for another half hour, and at the end, Simon lays his hand over Tyler’s, outstretched on the table. “Hey. It’s going to work out, okay? For both of us.”

“Yeah,” Tyler replies, trying to sound like he believes it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a camera phone, and his head jerks up. It is, unmistakably, pointed at the two of them. Tyler yanks his hand out from under Simon’s, a reflexive, instinctive move, and Simon’ eyebrows shoot up.

“You okay?”

Tyler has a crazy moment where he thinks about going after the photographer, chasing them down but— but they’re gone, swallowed by the crowd. And, he reminds his racing heart, this will all be gone by tomorrow.

“Sorry. I just. Sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

Simon looks at him, confused, concerned. “Uh. Sure?”

“When we get out of this. When we’ve broken our Loops, if we both remember everything. You can’t—don’t tell anyone you met me. Seriously.”

Simon laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

Tyler reaches out, grabs his forearm. “Seriously, Simon. You can’t tell anyone. No one can know I was in soul loop. Or that I’m looking for a man. Please.”

“What, are you some kind of celebrity?” Simon asks, and the smile fades off his face with Tyler doesn’t answer. “Oh, shit, are you really?”

Tyler swallows. “I mean. Not like, a _celebrity_ celebrity. But yeah. It’s. It would be bad. For me. If people knew I was. If anyone knew about any of this.”

Simon whistles. “Shit. Yeah, okay. I mean, I would never out anyone, but yeah. I promise.”

Tyler feels a gut punch of guilt, because he can’t make the same promise. Because he _has_ outed someone. In his own selfish, terrible panic, he’d posted someone else’s secrets on the Internet. And just because he won’t do it again doesn’t mean it never happened. Thank God Simon is a better person than he is.

“Thanks.” He feels loose with relief, the one-two punch of panic and guilt letting up, making him dizzy.

“So, uh. What do you do?” Simon asks. And yeah, that makes sense. Tyler does try not to make stereotypes, but Simon doesn’t look like he follows many sports.

“I play hockey.”

Simon whistles. “Yeah, damn. I can see how that would be an issue. I won’t tell, I promise.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“Of course. That’s like, gay etiquette 101. That, and always swallow.”

Tyler barks a laugh. “Can’t forget that.”

“You better go see your texting buddy,” Simon says. “I’ll see you around, okay? If you really need to see me, just page me on the system.”

“And you can swing by the gate whenever,” Tyler replies.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to catch my flight tomorrow. I’ve missed it the past few loops and I need to—I want to try retracing again.”

“Good luck.” Tyler holds out his hand for a fistbump. Simon laughs and stands to pull Tyler into a hug. Tyler finds, to his surprise, that he doesn’t feel that itch, the pressing knowledge that they can be seen. He lets himself hug back.

 

* * *

 

Jamie is still waiting for him, and Tyler feels a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

“Hey, man. You must be Jamie Benn. Sorry I was late.”

“Not a problem. Thanks for texting.” His mouth twists up in a smile, faint and distracting. “That was really cool of you.”

Tyler waves him away. “Nah, just like, the bare minimum of human decency.” He feels the familiar twist in his gut as he say it, the truth of it. The realization that he’s over three weeks in and this is the first time he’s taken someone else into consideration.

Jamie bumps his shoulder into Tyler, and Tyler bumps back. Jamie doesn’t know any better. He thinks that Tyler is just like this. A good person who texts when he’s running late.

He doesn’t want that illusion to shatter.

“What’s the plan for today, oh captain, my captain?”

“Well, we have a meeting with management pretty soon. Unless there was something else you wanted to do?”

It’s the first time Jamie’s made _that_ offer. It’s amazing what a little goodwill will get you. But Jamie thinks that Tyler is like, this responsible guy. He doesn’t want to blow it.

“I’d like to meet them. If they’re waiting and everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, cool.” Jamie clears his throat, and Tyler has to be imagining the thread of disappointment in his voice. “You got any luggage?”

“Yeah.” Tyler doesn’t even give him the chance to go the wrong way. “Baggage claim is this way.”

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t realized how many times he’s skipped this in a row, but seeing Jim Nill and the rest of the Stars management feels like he’s seeing it for the first time. He wishes Jamie had stayed in the hall, like he had before Tyler started to mix it up, because getting the polite, patronizing dressing down in front of him is pretty embarrassing.

Tyler signs his contract, takes the hat they pass him, shakes hands and smiles for the cameras.

He keeps his eyes open for who he could have met, and finds no one. No one who could be stuck in a Loop, no one conspicuously missing. He wishes he was as sure as Brownie, as sure as Simon, confident that this would work out.

“I was going to treat you to food before the meeting, but I didn’t plan on your flight being late. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Tyler says. He’s a bit disappointed when they return to the diner, not the steak place of the other day, but he supposes it is still lunch time. It’s strange being back here, knowing everything about to happen. At the though, he gets up, moves the chair that Karen always trips over, and then sits back down. He ignores Jamie’s look, and Jamie doesn’t ask.

Tyler orders something new off the menu and Jamie orders the same thing he always does.

“This place does not look meal plan approved,” Tyler remarks cheerfully, and then starts to laugh at the expression on Jamie’s face.

“It’s, ah, technically not?” Jamie admits, sounding sheepish. “What, it’s your first day in Dallas! We have to give you a good impression.”

“I will confess, they didn’t deep fry things quite like this in Boston,” and saying it doesn’t even send a hurting pang through him.

“I would hope not. I don’t think that level of deep fried is legal outside of Texas,” Jamie says, looking vaguely horrified as Tyler tries to fit the whole thing in his mouth for a bite.

“Carefully, Bennie, you take me here too often and the training team will revoke your captaincy.”

Jamie smiles back at him before tucking into his own meal, marginally less fried than Tyler’s. “We’ll have to save it for special occasions then.”

Tyler can’t help but smile back, even if Jamie grimaces at his full mouth.

 

* * *

 

This time, when Michelle shows him the apartment, he says “I’ll take it” before he’s even looked at the bedrooms. It’s all about location in real estate anyway.

 

* * *

 

When he goes back up to the Benn apartment, he’s surprised to not smell anything cooking. Surprised and a bit disappointed. Jamie might not be a Michelin star chef, but he grills a mean steak.

“Food?” he asks, almost as soon as he’s through the door.

“Hello to you too, Seggy,” Jordie says, rolling his eyes. “Welcome back to our apartment. So good to see you again.”

Tyler rolls his eyes expansively. “I saw you like, 5 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, whats up with that? I thought you’d at least want a look at the other apartment.”

“Oh. Yeah, I bought it.”

Something crashes in another room, and Tyler cranes his head around. Jamie sticks his head out of what is presumably his bedroom. Hm. Tyler still hasn’t seen that room yet.

“You did what?”

“I bought it. We’re neighbors now.” He drops down on the couch. “When’s dinner?”

 

* * *

 

 

Loops continue to pass. Sometimes Tyler sticks to the original timeline, searches for someone, anyone, who gives him a second Look.

Sometimes, he makes Jamie take him skating, always the old abandoned rink with the creaky doors and the chipped ice.

Sometimes he sees Simon, who isn’t any closer to pulling out a person between two airports than Tyler is in Dallas.

Sometimes he sees Michelle and buys the apartment downstairs.

Always, again and again, he sees Jamie. Jamie becomes a constant, the one point of stability. They sit across from one another, at greasy diners and texmex restaurants. At steak places and the Benn dining room table. Jamie, somehow, never tells the same story twice, and always makes Tyler laugh.

Tyler tells him things he’s never told anyone else before, about how he misses his mom and his sister. Abut how he feels about the trade. About how he misses Boston, but he never really felt like he fit there, a rookie even after his rookie year, a kid in a room of adults.

He tells himself that it’s just because this will all be gone tomorrow, but he’s starting to think it’s just _Jamie._ Jamie, who looks at him with wide, solemn eyes and listens to Tyler spill out his truths on the table between them.

Jamie, who doesn’t have the same confidence that this will be gone tomorrow and tells Tyler anyway. About how he worries that Jordie will one day start to resent him, about how he worries about being a captain, leading players older and more experienced than he is.

On the few days that Tyler skips out, the days he has to get drunk, or see Brownie, or the one day he spent all twelve hours in the airport spa, throwing money at them every time they tried to usher him on, he always texts Jamie.

_Hey - heard u might pick me up but I got a ride thx_

_Hey dude gotta get hella drunk see u tmmrw_

_JB ur gr8 but im gonna get my massage on. not a metaphor._

He doesn’t know what Jamie makes of it all, but he hates to think of Jamie waiting alone in the airport. At least he doesn’t have to worry about what Jamie will think.

He only keeps two secrets behind his teeth. The fact that he’s gay, and the fact that he’s in a Soul Loop.

He’d seen how Jamie reacted, those early Loops when Tyler waxed rhapsodic about his arms and his ass and his face, and he doesn’t want to know if it was general straight guy discomfort or homophobia. He doesn’t want to know.

Jamie won’t know if Tyler comes out to him, but Tyler will know if Jamie reacts badly. He doesn’t want to know. He wants to live in the land of cheerful ambiguity, where Jamie was able to laugh everything off and Tyler has a captain who would theoretically be okay with Tyler’s sexuality.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell Jamie about the Loop again. It’s not a secret. It’s just. He doesn’t want to face that stare again, the blank way Jamie had looked at him when Tyler had told him that first time.

 

* * *

 

It’s been almost four weeks, he’s pretty sure. He can’t be certain, but he _does_ remember the three week mark—spent crying on the phone to Brownie and then drinking the rest of the day with Simon. He doesn’t feel like drinking today.

He’s feeling that familiar buzzing under his skin. He wants to _skate._ And he knows that if he asks, he can get Jamie to take him to a rink, but. But he doesn’t want to do circles and loops. He wants to play fucking hockey. And, baring that, he wants to feel a stick in his hands.

“Jamie Benn?” he asks, coming straight up to Jamie. He’s started cutting right to the chase in the early moments, getting to the part where they can sit and talk or _skate_ and not be strangers.

He lets Jamie do the whole polite introduction thing, shakes his hand, cuts him off before he can go the wrong way to the baggage claim.

He waits until they’re in Jamie’s truck, which seems like crazy the longer he sits in it—a sure sign of insanity.

“You said we’d be going to the training facility? To meet management?”

“Yep.”

“What do you think about—I mean. I know it’s probably not scheduled or anything. But could we skate?”

When Jamie’s eyes cut to him, surprised, Tyler adds. “You know, really skate. I mean, everyone’s saying you’ll be my liney. I want to skate with you.”

He doesn’t realize how true it is until he says it. He doesn’t just want the ice under his feet or a stick in his hand. He wants to feel a puck pass from him to Jamie, wants to run drills with him. Wants to see if this _thing_ that seems to stretch between them extends onto the ice.

“Yeah— _yes!_ ” Jamie says, too fast, and Tyler feels so terribly fond of him. “Yeah, management would probably love that. All the reporters will be there for the signing, it would be great for photos.” Which yeah, he should have thought of that, but it would be _worth_ it. “We all thought you’d be too tired.”

And OG Tyler might have been. But it’s been almost a month, and Tyler needs it like food.

“Nah. I’m a fucking rock,” he lies.

Jamie snorts. “Yeah, alright.” Which, fair.

Jamie is right, Jim Nill is fucking _thrilled_ and the press nearly loses their minds.

Tyler couldn’t fit his gear in his two suitcases, but he has his skates and his shoulder pads, and all his underarmor—what little he wears, anyway.

He doesn’t even let his eyes wander in the changing room, that’s how excited he is. Not that he would anyway, he learned _that_ lesson early, but— still. It doesn’t even occur to him.

He can hear the shutter clicks of cameras the second he steps onto the ice. He’d been impressed, and surprised, that the Stars already have a jersey for him—first in the new colors!— but it’s paying off now.

They didn’t turn on all the lights, just enough to cover the ice, and it feels like it’s just him and Jamie in the world.

“Ready?” Jamie asks him, and Tyler grins, wild and free.

“Ready.”

Jamie dumps a bucket of pucks, which isn’t how Tyler usually does it, but he supposes the Captain can do whatever the hell he wants.

And then—

They play hockey.

It’s just the two of them, the scrape of their skates, the sound of their breath, the shush-shush of the puck on the ice and the sound of the cameras.

It’s like nothing Tyler has ever felt. He and Jamie practice passing back and forth, starting easy and working up to blind passes. Jamie is where Tyler needs him to be, every time. He takes Tyler’s passes right on his tape (which is a feat, considering the disaster of what he calls a tape job.)

After, God, Tyler doesn’t even know how long, they come to a stop against the boards, the opposite side of the press.

Tyler uses the hem of his shirt to wipe his face and when he drops it down, Jamie’s face looks even redder than before, and Tyler feels his stomach swoop pleasantly. He forcibly reminds himself of the way Jamie had run at every pickup and pass that first week and shoves the feeling down.

“That was fantastic,” Tyler says.

“Yeah,” Jamie says. He sounds like he really means it, too. No empty platitude.

“We’re going to do it,” Tyler says. “We’re going to prove everyone wrong.”

And Jamie won’t get it, it’s a reference to something he doesn’t even _remember_ and god, that thought hurts more than Tyler would have thought, but Jamie—

Jamie looks like he gets it. His brown eyes go warm and bright and oh. Oh fuck.

Tyler has a crush on _Jamie Fucking Benn._ He’s in a Soul Loop and he has a crush on someone who _isn’t_ his soulmate.

Jesus.

Tyler can’t even get soulmates right.

“Bet I can get more in the net than you,” he says, pushing away from wall. He’s actually not 100% on that, he remembers watching Jamie at that All Star game, a hundred years ago, remembers watching him on accuracy and thinking ‘Wow.’

But he doesn’t care who wins. He just needs to move, get away from Jamie’s gaze and his mouth and those goddamn _fucking_ arms.

Fuck.

He’s in so much trouble.

He can’t resist asking Jamie to skate properly. He hadn’t known what he was missing, at the local rink, with no sticks and no puck and no easy passes up and down the ice, but now that he has it, he’s not going to give it up.

“What’s the hurry?” Jamie laughs as they gear up in the locker room.

“I just really can’t wait to skate with you,” Tyler says honestly.

“Oh,” Jamie says, soft. He ducks his head and doesn’t say anything else while they gear up, but Tyler thinks he looks pleased.

It wasn’t a fluke. It’s just as good this time as before, just as _right._ He just wishes—

He wishes this were real. That it existed outside the Loop. He wants the press to get sick of seeing this, wants Jamie to remember what they worked up to yesterday.

It’s just as easy as the first time, easier. They work themselves into the trickier passes sooner, easily falling into the same rhythm. Just like before, the rest of the world seems to fall away. Tyler has been feeling like he’s stuck in his own world since his Loop started, but at least now it feels like Jamie is here with him.

Once Tyler feels comfortably warm, muscles loose and fluid in the way he always gets after a good workout, Jamie even starts running him through some of the Stars drills. The style is entirely different from the way the Bruins skate, and Tyler struggles with some of them.

He wishes he could say it was the first time, but hockey is all about pushing yourself, about never accepting that your best is good enough. If he was always happy with how he skated, he’d never get better.

Still, he hasn’t actually done drills this badly since he was in his rookie year, and it feels like he’s leaning an entirely new way of skating. Which is maybe the only good thing about this Loop—Jamie (and the press, and Jim Nill, who is definitely still watching) won’t remember him fumble his steps like a kid in their first pair of skates.

If he can keep talking Jamie into this, and no reason to think he won’t be able to, he can work his way through it, again and again and again until he gets it right.

Tyler may have made some mistakes along the way, may be far from perfect, but he’s not lazy.

“Try again,” Jamie says, with that deep voice and penetrating stare, and Tyler is going to get this right if he has to do it for the next 100 Loops.

 

* * *

 

“Hey. I heard the Stars do their drills a bit different. Want to show me a few?”

 

* * *

 

“Oh Captain, my captain! Do you have any drills to work on footwork and puck handling?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Marchy was talking about this drill—maybe you know it? It looks a bit like— well, I’ll show you.”

 

* * *

 

“So like, scale of 1-10, how bad is it to like, fall for someone who isn’t your soulmate during your Loop?”

Simon slowly lowers his cup to the table. Tyler waits, expectant.

“Um. Bad?” Simon drawls sarcastically. “On a scale of 1-10, I would rate that _bad.”_

Tyler gives him a dirty look. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I dunno, man. It’s just. It’s really bad.”

“Not everyone ends up with their soulmate,” Tyler says. And he doesn’t want to like _end up_ with Jamie. He’s just stating a fact.

“Well, duh,” Simon rolls his eyes. “I don’t care that you fell in love with him. We’ve all done that. It’s like falling in love with a straight guy. It’s a right of passage. I’m talking about, this is your Loop. Dude. Have you even like, _looked_?”

Tyler shifts in his seat. He can’t remember the last time he flirted with anyone else, tried to see who held his gaze too long, whose actions didn’t fit into the pattern. He only made the vaguest impressions of day 1 when he wanted to practice with his gear on, a stick in his hand and Jamie, smiling on the other side of the ice.

“Whatever,” he says into his drink.

“Tyler,” Simon sounds, and Tyler is so tired of that tone. That exasperated, sympathetic sigh that people always use when they say his name.

“It’s none of your business anyway,” Tyler says, and he gets to his feet before he thinks better about it. He’d already told Jamie not to come today, but he could probably get a cab. It would surprise the hell out of Jamie, but Tyler is pretty sure he could explain it away.

Simon catches his wrist. “Come on. I’m just worried about you. I, ah.” He looks down at the table. “The timing is shitty, but—I don’t think I’ll be here much longer.”

Tyler stares down at him. Simon is fighting a smile, and Tyler all but drops back into his chair. “You met them?”

“Yeah. They’re in Chicago after all. If you hadn’t called me over this morning…”

“You’re sure?” Tyler is, he doesn’t know what he feels. He’s happy for Simon. He is. It’s just.

The smile breaks across Simon’s face, like he can’t hold it back any longer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. He was a barista at the Starbucks at O’Hare. It must have been—he must have touched my hand.”

“Jesus,” Tyler says, leaning back in his seat and just starting at Simon. His improbable, impossible friend. “Dude, that’s—” insane. The chances of them meeting again are astronomical.

“Yeah,” Simon says. “We’re going to spend a few Loops, going on dates, you know? Really get the most out of it.” He laughs. “Apparently he spent three whole days just splashing naked in the Buckingham Fountain.”

“Sounds, uh.” Well, to be honest, it sounds a lot more fun than anything Tyler has been doing.

Simon doesn’t even seem to notice his trailing off. “Yeah. Tyler, I can’t wait to fall in love with him. Just, his smile alone.” He takes a sip of his drink, then smiles down into it. “I wish I could show you a picture. He’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, well, you should see mine,” Tyler says, and feels himself freeze the seconds the words leave his mouth. Because, God, because it’s _not the same_. Jamie isn’t his soulmate, and Jamie isn’t _his_ and— and Tyler could very well be stuck like this forever.

“Damn,” Simon says it, and his face has settled back into the pitying expression Tyler is so used to getting from others. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I’m basically fucked,” Tyler agrees.

Simon reaches out and pats Tyler’s arm sympathetically.

He’s going to go. Tyler’s going to be doing this alone from now on.

“How do you do it?” he asks, and hates it. He’s held the question back behind his teeth for what over a month and—and he needs to know.

“Do? What, find them? Because, it was really more of an accident than anything. I thought ‘What would Tyler do’ and I grabbed the closest mike and—”

“No. Just. Be. You know, how you are.” He gestures at Simon’s everything, and Simon’s face creases.

“How I am?”

“Not like, in a bad way. Just. It’s like you don’t even care. That everyone knows you’re,” he trails off.

“Gay. That I’m gay, Tyler.”

Tyler just stares at him.

Simon rolls his eyes. “It’s not like, rocket science. I got tired of pretending to be anyone else.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s different for you. I’m an architect, not a pro athlete. Yeah, I googled you. No one cares who I fuck, or who fucks me. You don’t have to be like ‘out and proud,’” he holds up finger quotes, “to be a real gay.”

Tyler winces, ever so slightly. “That’s not what I was—”

“Yeah, it was. And, if your soulmate is Right, they’ll get it. I mean, try and shove me back in the closet, and I’d lose my mind and probably cut a bitch. But that is just one of many, many reasons why you and I are not soulmates.”

Tyler laughs. It only sounds a little hoarse. “That, and your glasses.”

Simon makes a face. “Ugh. You’re such a _jock_.” He takes a sip of his drink. “What I _don’t_ get is how you can flirt so much and hit on everyone and offer to suck a dudes dick, and you still freak out when someone suggests you might be gay.”

“Well, yeah. Flirting is like, harmless.” Simon gives him a look, and Tyler shrugs. “What, it’s hockey. You slap each other on the ass, and say ‘I could kiss you, man,’ and hug during cellies, and everyone knows you’re still going to go home and fuck the ladies. But if you _tell_ them—poof.” He mimes a small explosion.

“And here’s me thinking Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ended in 2010.”

“I’m Canadian.”

“That’s worse, actually.”

Tyler is out of drink. He fakes a sip anyway, to do something with his hands. “You face is worse.”

“Tyler, I went to San Francisco the other day. I just got on a different flight, went to San Francisco and danced until I passed out. My soulmate was naked in Buckingham Fountain, and I’ll probably join him tomorrow. And you’re just—you go through your first day and hang out with someone who isn’t your soulmate, and you talk to me. You aren’t taking any _risks_.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Tyler says on instinct.

“Do something that fucking terrifies you, Tyler. Otherwise, what’s the goddamn point of any of this?”

Tyler thought the point was pretty much to meet his soulmate, and he says as much. Simon rolls his eyes, which is approaching a record for number of times per conversation.

“Well, yeah, obviously. But if that were it, I’m sure there’s a lot easier ways to do it. Maybe you haven’t met them because you’re not ready for your Loop to end. Because you haven’t used your Loop.”

“Yeah, alright, Freud.”

“That’s all I got,” Simon glances at his watch. “The next plane for Chicago leaves pretty soon. I should be on it.”

“That’s fine,” Tyler says, “I’ll handle my crisis alone.”

“You’re a big boy.” Simon stands, and for a moment, he’s taller than Tyler. “I think I’m going to miss you.”

“Asshole,” Tyler says, rising as well. “You’ll miss the hell out of me.”

Simon pulls Tyler into a hug. “Yeah, alright. Maybe a little.”

Tyler hugs back, not even thinking about what this looks like, what it means to hug a man like Simon in full view of everyone. “You too, dude.”

“Good luck, if I don’t see you.”

Tyler pulls away. “You too. Enjoy all the nakedness.”

Simon winks. “Oh, I will.”

Tyler laughs. He really will miss Simon. He’s not the kind of friend Tyler used to having. “Bye, Simon.”

“I want tickets to at least three games!” Simon calls, already walking away.

“You’ll have to bring someone to explain the rules!”

“Oh, I won’t be going for the rules!” Simon says, and disappears into the crowd.

Tyler sinks back into his own chair, absently raising his empty cup to his mouth and then setting it down again. He thinks of Jamie, smiling at him across the ice. About meeting Simon, and about knowing that Brownie would fly across the country on a call. He’s done the public nudity thing before. It’s overrated.

But maybe he could stand to be a little braver.

 

* * *

 

Tyler knows it’s not going to stick, but he waits until he’s signed his contract and accepted the hat before he does it. It’s no naked run in a public fountain, but there’s always time for that later.

“History is being made here today,” he says as he shakes Jim Nill’s hand and smiles for the cameras.

“How so?” Jim asks, and Tyler feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his body. He feels like he’s going to be sick. There is a fine line between brave and being stupid and — Loop or not — Tyler is about to step over it. Hell, he’s taking a running joke over it.

He turns to the cameras, and smiles his best smile. “It’s the first time an NHL team has signed an openly gay player, of course.”

 

* * *

 

It’s Jamie’s face that he remembers, in the aftermath. After the room falls silent, and Jim drops his hand— shock, not disgust, Tyler is pretty sure— and after everyone picks their jaws up and starts screaming in unison, it’s Jamie’s face that sticks out.

Jamie isn’t screaming. He isn’t yelling. He hasn’t run forward to knock the Stars hat off Tyler’s head.

He just stares, and stares. The blood has drained from his face, and he looks like he got boarded, _hard._

Then he turns, and walks out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Tyler spends the next two loops at the airport with Brownie, and not a small amount of alcohol.

 

* * *

 

Tyler hadn’t been able to read the Press after Loop Coming Out, but he does want to know what they would say, were he to do it again.

Next time.

“Got any good drills, mon capitan?” he asks Jamie, once they hit the ice. It’s hard to remember, in this moment, how he usually acts with Jamie. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he can’t stop seeing Jamie’s back, the door swinging shut behind him.

Which is fine. He’s over it. No big deal.

Jamie, inexplicably, is acting odd as well, shooting Tyler inscrutable looks under his lashes and staring at him when he thinks Tyler isn’t watching. Tyler keeps thinking about what he’s done this Loop that would prompt such a difference, but he’s coming up blank.

It’s probably just that Tyler is carrying his own awkwardness from Loop Coming Out, and Jamie is picking up on it.

Still, they start with continuous passing, and it flows like it always does. Tyler wants to try this with a team on the ice, two teams. Wants to see if he can always find Jamie’s tape, though skates and sticks and opposing D-Men. He thinks he can.

Jamie puts him through the drill again, and he’s starting to suspect that it’s one of Jamie’s favorites, because Jamie always leads with this one, even when Tyler doesn’t specify a skill he wants a drill for.

And, the truly frustrating part, he’s _still_ not getting it. Time is tricky, but it’s been _at least_ two weeks of running through it. He doesn’t do it everyday, doesn’t always hit the ice, but it’s still—he should _have it_ by now. Even when he was first picking up skills, his body always understood things before this mind did.

But then, his body resets every Loop, so maybe he can’t reply on muscle memory, has to learn it fresh every day.

“Here, try like—”

And Tyler looks up and suddenly Jamie is directly on top of him. He almost hits Jamie in the face with his helmet when he jerks, and Jamie steadies him.

Then Jamie settles his hands on Tyler’s hips, and Tyler feels his own face flame into a blazing heat. He’s an _adult_. He’s had sex before, had sex _a lot_ , and he’s blushing like a virgin on prom night from a single touch through gloves and pads and fabric.

“Like this,” Jamie says, and he skates backwards, pulling Tyler ever so slightly. Tyler almost falls over, and he thinks that he sees Jamie tuck a smile behind his lips. He lets Jamie pull him through the motions, trying to focus on what Jamie is doing and not the feel of Jamie’s hands, the closeness of his body, the way if Tyler looks up, leans in, he could—

“Got it?” Jamie asks, and his eyes are sparkling, a smirk twisting his mouth.

“Um.” Tyler isn’t sure he remembers what a puck is, much less how to do the drill. “Yes?”

“Cool.” Jamie lets him go, glides back, and looks at Tyler expectantly. “Well?” he prompts after a moment.

“Huh?”

“The drill, Segs.”

Right. The drill. That he remembers.

Tyler stumbles through a passable representation. At least Jamie doesn’t completely laugh at him. Much.

 

* * *

 

Time doesn’t really mean anything in a Loop. Yeah, the day passes chronologically, from when he opens his eyes on the plane to when he closes them at the end of the day. More often than not now, that comes on the Benn’s couch, with his head on a pillow and his feet kicked up on Jamie’s lap.

But he’s lost track of how many days he’s been here. Simon was a bit better at it than he is, which isn’t a surprise. The last time they’d met, Simon had put Tyler at over month, so Tyler is pretty sure he’s almost at two months now, but he’s not sure.

“Hey, JB!” Tyler comes out of terminal hot, lunges at Jamie like he’s greeting an old friend. Like he would greet Brownie.

Jamie, who to his knowledge is meeting a total stranger, recovers admirably and actually catches Tyler when he all but jumps on him.

Tyler is a hockey player. Jamie is a hockey player. They know how to give and take hits. But, still, it makes something curl, hot and fierce, in Tyler’s stomach to know that throwing himself at Jamie Benn won’t even rock him. That Jamie can plant his feet and take everything Tyler has.

“You must be Tyler Seguin,” he says, and he’s laughing, smiling down at Tyler with open amusement. Open fondness. Has he always looked at Tyler like that?

“The one and only.”

He’s thought the entire way here about what he wants to do today. Whether he wants to play at being a good sheep or work on that stupid drill, which still eludes him, or just spend the entire day at the airport.

He looks up at Jamie and doesn’t want to do any of those things. He’d rather spend the entire day with Jamie. With Jamie looking at him like that.

Okay, so he’s come to terms with his crush, whatever. No big deal. He dares anyone to skate with Jamie, have those eyes on them and only them, and not get a crush.

Tyler detangles his limbs from Jamie’s, feeling cold at all the places their skin touched.

“What is there to do in Dallas?” he asks.

“Hockey?” Jamie offers after a beat. Which, yeah, that is what Tyler is here for.

“Yeah, no shit.” He hip checks Jamie, who hip checks him back, harder. He almost knocks Tyler right over and _damn_ those hips. “I mean besides that. Do you have like, a duck tour?”

“A Duck Tour?” Jamie asks, incredulous. And yeah, that’s fair. That might just be a Boston thing.

“Yeah. Like, a tour. Of the city. Except it goes in the water and on the streets.”

Jamie quirks an eyebrow at him. “Dallas being known for its large bodies of water,” he drawls sarcastically. Tyler finds it so terribly charming that Jamie’s Canadian accent comes out the strongest when he’s being sarcastic.

He wonders when else it comes out—whether his vowels round out when he’s sleepy, if he softens his ohs when he’s turned on.

“Okay, fine. Not a duck tour then. But there has to be some kind of tourist shit here to do.” Jamie looks skeptical, so Tyler pulls out the big guns. “I’m going to be here awhile,” and god, its so hard to find that he means that—that he _wants_ that— “I want to know more about this city. I want to love this city.” And god help him, he really does.

Jamie softens immediately, and he really is just a marshmallow in a crunchy shell. And the best part is, Tyler isn’t manipulating him. Or, he is, but he means it. This isn’t some con to get someone to do what he wants. They’re in this together.

Well.

Sort of.

“Well, it doesn’t go in water, but I do have a truck,” Jamie is saying, and Tyler wrenches his attention back to him. “I can’t promise to know much, but I can take you to my favorite spots.”

Tyler has to clear his throat, twice, before he can force out “Yeah. That sounds awesome.” And the thing is, it _does_.

He thinks back to his first day here, before the Loops had started, about how he would have felt about taking a driving tour of Dallas with Jamie Benn, and he knows he would have hated it.

“Do you have any luggage?” Jamie asks.

Tyler doesn’t even have to think about. “Nah.”

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, Jamie is _terrible_ at this. He seems to have taken Tyler’s mention of the duck tours to heart, but it’s also very clear that he has only the vaugest ideas of what that means. He clearly has no kind of plan, which Tyler gathers is unlike him, but to his credit Tyler did ambush him.

The consequences of this are that Jamie drives to places as they occur to him, not by what may be the most logical order. He also keeps driving by things that are probably great toursist activities to do, but not great to see from the outside. Like the Aquarium.

The third time he does this, Tyler is almost crying laughing.

“Jamie. JB. JayBenn. Buddy. You’re _terrible_ at this.”

“It was _your_ idea.”

“I meant like, see the sites. Not get a drive-by of the Botanical Gardens. Do I look like someone who likes _botanical gardens_?” Which. Well. If Jamie wanted to like, walk through the gardens, Tyler would probably let him. Would probably like it.

Yikes.

“Well, fine then,” Jamie says, snippy. “What do you want to do?”

They’re on the freeway. Tyler has seen a lot of the freeways.

“Where are we headed now?” Jamie mutters something, and Tyler perks right up. “I’m sorry, repeat that?”

“I said the Zoo!” Jamie bursts out, and Tyler fucking looses it.

He tries several times to talk through it, but he can’t manage it, and Jamie tries to look disgruntled while keeping his eyes on the road, but Tyler can see him trying not to smile.

“You thought, you thought a highlight of this trip would be the outside of the zoo?” he forces out.

“Shut up.”

“I mean, it’s not the outside of the Aquarium,” Tyler says, giggling.

“Shut up!”

“Or the outside of the Museum of Art.”

“Oh my god,” Jamie mutters, apparently having realized that Tyler isn’t going to shut up.

“What’s next babe? Were we going to drive by the gates of Six Flags?” Jamie’s ears go red and Tyler laughs again. The endearment slips out, and Tyler is laughing too hard to have any regrets. “Oh my God, we were, weren’t we!”

“You said you wanted like, a driving tour!” Jamie protests.

“Yeah, of like, sights! Like fountains or, I don’t know, historical buildings!” He didn’t actually have a solid plan. He’d mostly wanted to spend time with Jamie.

“It’s _Dallas_. It doesn’t _have_ historical buildings.”

“What about, like, the Alamo?”

This time, it’s Jamie’s turn to stare at him incredulously.

“The _Alamo_?”

“That’s in Texas!”

“Not in _downtown Dallas._ ” Jamie says, and his voice is thick with laughter.

“How would I know! I’m Canadian!”

“So am I!” Jamie shouts back, and for a moment they’re both silent.

And then they both loose it.

“Eyes on the road!” Tyler forces out through his laughter as Jamie fucking _howls_ with laughter. Tyler has never seen him laugh like that, not in weeks and weeks of making bad jokes and good jokes and just trying to earn a smile.

Tyler feels like he could fucking _fly._

 

* * *

 

In the end, when Jamie goes to do his drive-by of the zoo, Tyler makes him park, and they get out and buy tickets. And then they have to get Jamie a hat and sunglasses for both of them. Tyler turns his snapback around so the brim covers his face.

They look a bit like perverts here to look at small children, but they don’t look much like professional hockey players. It’s not like Dallas is Boston anyway, it’s not as much of a hockey town.

Jamie says as much when Jamie shoves a pair of sunglasses on his face, but he’s grinning.

“We’re going to change that,” Tyler says, and god, he wants Jamie to remember this one. He wants him to remember this promise between the two of them. They’re going to bring hockey back to Dallas. They’re going to bring the fucking _Cup_ back to Dallas.

Jamie catches his wrist as Tyler pulls back. “I know we will.”

Tyler can’t help but grin at him, and he thinks he could stay like this for another six Loops.

Then a child screams to their left and the moment snaps. Jamie drops Tyler’s hand like it’s on fire, and Tyler tucks both hands into his pocket so he won’t do anything stupid like try to hold Jamie’s hand.

“I wish we had an animal mascot,” Tyler says idly, watching the penguins waddle around their enclosure. “Look at them!”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and his voice is soft. Tyler follows his gaze to a little baby penguin, all fluff and feathers.

“I mean, Crosby gets like, these fluffy fuckers and we’re like, the stars,” he makes a jazz hands motion to accompany it.

“Hey. Nothing wrong with the stars.”

“They’re giant balls of gas, like, a billion miles away.”

Jamie nudges him. “Think of it this way. Each one, every single one is it’s own sun. The center of it’s little universe. And they might seem small, or far away, but each one is the most important thing in the world, to something.”

Tyler stares at him, his soft smile as he looks at the penguins, his stupid hair and his eyes hidden under his sunglasses and feels overwhelmed. Oh Jesus. Tyler doesn’t have a _crush_ on Jamie Benn. He’s fucking _in love_ with him.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty cool.”

He feels rattled, shaken down to his core. Hockey players aren’t supposed to be fucking _deep_ and _philosophical_. Tyler isn’t supposed to _like_ people who are deep and philosophical. He likes people like him, who drink and party and don’t think about tomorrow.

He is so thoroughly fucked.

 

* * *

 

The problem is, Tyler started too big.

“Hi. Tyler Seguin.”

Jamie gives him that same smile, and shakes his hand. “Jamie Benn. Welcome to the team.”

“Cool, thanks. So, I’m gay.”

Jamie, to his credit, doesn’t drop Tyler’s hand. Doesn’t even do the instinctive flinch/look-around that Tyler has felt himself do so many times.

“Oh.”

Well, at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to take a running jump out the airport window. Tyler waits for him to say something, anything else.

He doesn’t.

“Like, super gay,” Tyler continues. “Pretty exclusively actually. I mean, I hear girls are great and I’ve slept with like, _a lot,_ but it doesn’t—guys are just—and I think it might have caused some issues in Boston. Not the only reason I’m here, because who goes ‘do you know where the best place for a gay hockey player is? Texas!’ but, it’s not _not_ a factor, and I thought you should—”

“Tyler,” Jamie puts a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Tyler, breathe.”

Tyler cuts himself off, sucks in a deep breath. He wants to see Brownie. He wants to see Marshall. He wants a hug.

“Let it out.”

Tyler does.

“Let’s just—my apartment isn’t far.”

Jamie keeps his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, gently steering him through the airport, out the doors. Tyler doesn’t spare a thought for his luggage, and Jamie doesn’t ask.

The entire ride to the Benn apartment is silent. How long has it been since he’s seen Michelle, since he’s bought the apartment on the fourth floor? He’ll have to make sure to do that, if he gets out. If Jamie doesn’t hate him. Even if Jamie forgets, Tyler couldn’t—wouldn’t be able to just let it go.

“Oh, you’re early,” Jordie says, when the door swings open.

“Out,” Jamie says, hooking a thumb at the door. Jordie’s eyebrows jump up. He looks from Jamie to Tyler, still in the doorway, shoulders hunched and hands in his pocket.

“Okaaaay,” Jordie drawls out slowly. He clasps Tyler on the shoulder as he passes, and Tyler feels strangely comforted. Jordie thinks he’s meeting a stranger, and he still reaches out.

“So.” Jamie sits down on the couch, and indicates the chair to the side of it. Tyler sinks into it. He keeps staring at the weave of the couch. He’s curled up on that couch so many times now. Returned here from running drills, come by after buying the apartment below, countless scenarios ending on this couch. He’s played mario kart (he’s amazing) and wii bowling (he’s terrible) or just fallen asleep on those cushions. “So,” Jamie says again. “You’re gay.”

It jerks Tyler’s attention back. “Yeah. Like, super gay.”

Jamie snorts, and Tyler is too relieved to see he can laugh at this to be offended. “What does being ‘super gay’ entail?”

There is a long and varied list that Tyler puts under that term, but he’s not going to explain being a power bottom to Jamie fucking Benn at the moment. “You know. It’s not just like, brojobs. I like it. And not girls.”

Jamie’s mouth has dropped open, so momentarily close to his expression during Loop Coming Out that Tyler hardly can breathe. Jamie manages to croaks out “Brojob?”

“You know,” Tyler makes the universal motion for jerking off. “Like in the juniors, helping a buddy out. It’s not gay if you don’t like it.”

Jamie’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he says “You and I had very different experiences in juniors.”

“Is it a problem?” Tyler blurts out. “Because, if it is—” he trails off. If there is, nothing. He’ll reset, and he’ll never mention it again. He’ll deal with having a crush on a straight homophobe and he’ll bury it down and he won’t let Boston happen all over.

“No,” Jamie says, fast and desperate. “No, it’s fine. I’m not. No. It’s not a problem. It won’t _be_ a problem.” He meets Tyler’s eyes, so intense that Tyler goes breathless for an all new reason. “The locker room—they’re good people.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I want to tell the whole locker room,” Tyler says. “You’re my _Captain_.” That’s the least of what Jamie is, but Tyler isn’t going to get into that right now.

“I’m sorry, I’m just, it’s a surprise. Your twitter was—”

Tyler buries his head in his hands. He’s made his own share of mistakes on twitter. Big ones. Some he regrets, truly and deeply. Some he just doesn’t understand how anyone misunderstood what he had (drunkenly) tried to say.

Then Jamie’s mouth drops open again. “Oh my god. You weren’t being a dick, you were _coming out._ ”

Tyler peeks between his fingers, but Jamie looks on the right side of amused, so Tyler lets his hands drop. “I mean, there was some overlap between the two. But yeah. I still don’t really get how everyone missed that.”

Jamie shrugs. “People see what they want to see. No one believes that there could be gay hockey players.” He takes a long, slow breath, and adds, “I think that’s why no one has guessed, about me.”

The words rock through Tyler, shake him. He can see Jamie’s hands, trembling, before Jamie clasps them together.

Tyler needs to answer him, he knows that he has to. He knows that shocky, trembling feeling that comes when coming out, with trusting someone with that kind of knowledge.

And Jamie won’t remember this.

That knowledge sweeps over Tyler, another tidal swell on the heels of the other. Jamie has trusted him with this, has given him this.

And tomorrow, tomorrow he won’t remember. Tomorrow this will be meaningless, and he’ll have to smile and greet Jamie at the airport and nothing will matter.

“Oh,” he forces out. “Me too.”

Jamie laughs, and it comes out weak and watery. “Yeah, I know.”

And Tyler wants him so badly. Wants him, and can’t have him.

He closes his eyes against it. He wishes he didn’t know. It’s not like any part of this is easy, almost two months into his Loop and no soulmate to show for it, but he’d been dealing— managing. Jamie was an impossible dream.

Jamie being gay doesn’t make him any less impossible. It just makes it hurt more.

He opens his eyes again, stares across the couch at Jamie; the strong, beautiful lines of him. The moment is still and quiet and perfect, a hint of a smile on Jamie’s lips and amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“I’m in a Loop,” Tyler says, and the words seem to echo in the room, falling onto the couch between them. He’s looking at Jamie, so he see’s watching as Jamie’s eyes go wide, as his mouth falls open. As he goes pale. Tyler reaches out, scrambling blind for Jamie’s hand because he can’t look away from his face. “I’m in my Loop, so you have to—Jamie you have to tell me again, okay?”

Jamie opens his mouth. Closes it again. It’s a day for revelations, the same face he’d made less than an hour ago.

“You won’t remember this,” Tyler says, clutching at Jamie’s hand. “And I will, and I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to—I promise I won’t tell. I won’t say anything, if you don’t want me to. You won’t know that you trusted me, but you _can._ I promise, you can trust me.”

Jamie holds up his free hand, and Tyler falls silent. Jamie’s hand hangs in the air, and he’s almost overcome with the need to give him a high five, just to break the tension.

“Why,” Jamie licks his lips. “Why tell me?”

“Because if I didn’t tell you, I would have kissed you,” Tyler says honestly.

Jamie makes a terrible, gut punched noise, and Tyler tightens his grip on Jamie’s hand out of reflex. Jamie’s hand is still in his.

“And I don’t want to kiss you in a Loop,” Tyler says. “If I kiss you, I want us both to remember it.”

“Tyler,” Jamie says, soft. Careful. Tyler braces himself for the worst, for the rejection. “There’s something I have to—something you should know.”

“I know I’m not your soulmate. But they don’t— it’s been so long, and if they’re here, they don’t want me and—” he has to cough, the words lodged in his throat. Dreams die hard, and he’s wanted a soulmate for so long. “—and maybe it’s overrated, because I can’t anyone being better than—better than—”

Jamie is staring at him in something a lot like horror, and Tyler feels the words die in his throat. God, what is he _doing_. Jamie doesn’t _know_ him. He swipes at his face, realizes he’s still holding Jamie’s hand and lets go.

“I’m sorry. You hardly know me, I shouldn’t be vomiting feelings over your living room.”

Jamie makes another sound, low in his throat. “You don’t have to—I’m trying to say that—”

“If you’re going to reject me, can we just—can it wait? Because you’ll totally forget this tomorrow, and I’ve mostly come to terms with th fact that my soulmate can’t stand me—” Jamie makes an aborted move, and visibly pulls himself back, “-and if you—can we just pretend? I promise I won’t ever mention it again.”

The space between the two of them looks vast. Jamie’s hand is still outstretched from when Tyler let him go, and Tyler watches as he slowly closes it into a fist and lets it drop.

“Yeah, Tyler.” His voice sounds wrecked, and there’s no laughter on his face now, and Tyler hates that he did this, even for the day. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Thanks.” Tyler deliberately turns his attention back to the tv. “Oh, Storage Wars is on!”

He falls asleep on the couch later, like he has so many times now. When he starts to drift off, Jamie even lets Tyler curl up with his head on Jamie’s leg. Even runs his fingers through Tyler’s hair, infinitely gentle even despite Tyler’s mortifying confession.

As he drifts off, he thinks he hears Jamie whisper, “I’m so sorry, Tyler.”

Tyler’s asleep before he can ask what for.

 

* * *

 

 

Jamie has barely let Tyler get through his standard introduction before he asks if they can talk. Tyler searches his memory, tries to remember if this has ever happened before, and comes up blank.

Still, the smallest thing can make a difference in a Loop, and he’d stopped for a coffee on his way out of the terminal. The previous Loop had been tiring in literally every way, he feels he’s earned it. Maybe Jamie wants to lecture him about punctuality.

Tyler heads him off by passing Jamie the second coffee. It’s an abomination of sugar, milk and chocolate, but it had taken Tyler twelve whole Loops just to get Jamie to admit he preferred it to the black, one cream, that he ordered in public, so Tyler feels proud every time he hands it over.

“I know I’m running late, but not by much,” Tyler says. “And, we totally still have time to get over to the center before Jim starts getting restless.”

Tyler has perfected the exact window in which he can arrive without being so late as to make everyone actively mad, but still be late enough that he feels a bit more like their speech about responsibility worth it. If he has to sit through a breakdown of his flaws every few days, he feel like he should at least get to live down to their expectations.

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Aren’t you going to drink that?” Tyler asks hopefully.

Jamie is too delightfully Canadian not to oblige him. Whatever he wants to say can wait, because Tyler loves this part. Jamie always takes a tentative sip, expecting the proper, true coffee that he actually dislikes. When he encounters the sweetness instead, his mouth always falls open ever so slightly, surprise or pleasure, and he takes a deep breath before his next sip. He always seems to be savoring it.

Except, this time, Jamie takes a perfunctory sip and says “Yum,” in the most monotone voice that Tyler has ever heard from him. And considering that Tyler has seen him all but turn into a robot when he gets nervous, thats saying something.

“I mean, you don’t have to be a dick about it,” Tyler says, playing up a sulky tone.

Jamie, poor innocent Jamie, who has only just met Tyler and probably thinks he just grievously insulted a near stranger, falters. “No, it’s—thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Well, yeah, I didn’t _have_ to. But I figure, if I want to bribe the Captain, I gotta start strong. Go big or go home, right?” He doesn’t Jamie’s indignant sputters a chance to turn into words, just turns and heads towards baggage claim. “This way, Jameson!”

Jamie catches up to him in a matter of seconds. “I really need to talk with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. If I promise to always be on time for everything ever, would that help?”

“I—what?”

“If I promise to never be late for anything, can I avoid the lecture? I promise I’ll be good.”

Jamie looks skeptical. “I don’t believe you.”

“That hurts, Chubbs, it really does.”

Jamie takes two quick steps, moving his body directly into Tyler’s way. “I really need to tell you something.”

Tyler almost runs directly into him, and has to take a step back just in time. This close, their height difference is unmistakable, and it makes Tyler’s heart race inappropriately. It makes his head spin.

“Oh, my luggage!” Tyler says, pivoting around Jamie, quick as if he were on skates. Okay, he’ll admit, at this point it’s partly just to rile Jamie up. His face is already going pink, his lips pressed together in frustration.

Tyler can sit and take a lecture like a champ, but this is so much more _fun._ If it was anything important, he’d listen, sure. But he can’t imagine that Jamie would have to say this early in a Loop that could make a bit of difference.

He makes a show of pulling a suitcase off the carousel and looking at it, inspecting the tags.

“That’s not your bag,” Jamie says.

“You don’t know that.” He’s right. It’s not even the right color. But Jamie has no way of knowing that.

Jamie crowds in close to him, reaches around him to glare at the tag. “You’re Amanda Dillon now?”

“It’s a pseudonym,” Tyler says. “So no one takes my skates and sells them on ebay.”

Jamie gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re not Crosby. No one wants your smelly skates.”

“Harsh,” Tyler says, hefting the bag back onto the carousel.

“Are you going to let me talk now?”

Tyler looks at him under his lashes, aware of how effective the look can be. “Do you have to?”

Jamie blinks down at him for a moment, then visibly shakes it off. Tyler feels a bit gratified. He’s pretty sure he’s not Jamie’s type, too wild and too loud for a guy like Jamie, but it’s nice.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “C’mon, it’s important.”

Tyler sighs, and takes a step back so he can look Jamie fully in the face, not distracted by the bredth of the smell of him— surely he can’t have smelled this good the entire time, Tyler would have noticed. “Alright, I’m all ears. Lay it on me, Captain.”

Jamie just looks at him, his eyes raking over Tyler’s face.

“I could start?” Tyler offers, after a moment of silence.

“Oh. Um. You don’t know what I’m going to say?” It comes out like a question, and Tyler is so stupid over this robot man, honestly.

“I should have texted you that I was running late, and I need to shape up if I’m going to be a valuable member of the Stars team. Am I close?” He waits expectantly, but Jamie just stares at him. Tyler sighs. “Look, I am sorry I didn’t text. Can we just,” he makes a wrap it up gesture, “get on with the lecture? It’s been a long day.” In every conceivable way.

“Uh.” Jamie is still staring at him, and Tyler is starting to worry that there is something on his face. Then Jamie reaches out and scrubs a hand over his own mouth. “No,” he says, sounding defeated. “No, I just wanted to—welcome to the team. That’s all I wanted to say. We’re really happy to have you.”

Tyler beams at him, genuinely pleased. “Thanks, man. I’m really happy to be here!” He means it too, means it more than he could ever have thought possible. He sees his bag coming down the carousel and turns towards it. “You didn’t have to be so weird about it though.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says from behind him. His voice is unusually tired for the hour, and Tyler is abruptly glad he got the coffee for him. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Given Jamie’s weirdness, beyond the threshold that Tyler has allotted for it, he asks to skip the Stars Management meeting.

It’s the first time in quite a few Loops that Tyler has been back to the local rink, with it’s creaky doors and chipped ice, but he finds he’s missed it. God, it feels like he’s half a couple, returning to the site of a first date.

He manages to coax Jamie out of his mood by the time they get their skates on, so the ice time can be a relaxing experience. He’d been enjoying the drills and the passing and the checks they ran at the Center, but this is nice too. The rink always feels a bit like business, with gaze of the reporters and the management impossible to ignore.

As the quiet of the rink settles around them, Tyler’s thoughts pull continuously towards the thoughts of Jamie’s sexuality. He tries to force them away. It doesn’t count if Jamie doesn’t know Tyler knows, would be wrong of him to act differently or force the issue.

He’ll have to wait for Jamie to trust him again.

He does think, as they pass one another in opposite figure eights, that he might be able to recreate it. Could come out and see if Jamie admits— but it feels wrong, somehow. Manipulative. He had promised Jamie he wouldn’t mention it again.

And also— the previous Loop had been intense. He’d felt raw and delicate there on the couch, drifting off with Jamie’s fingers in his hair. He doesn’t regret it, is starting to treasure every stolen moment with Jamie, but he can’t do it every day.

The next time he and Jamie come close to one another, Tyler dekes out of his pattern, lunges forward and taps Jamie on the arm. “Tag!”

To his delight, Jamie gives chase, laughing.

Sometimes, it can just be this.

Tyler has totally lost track of which day it is, when he asks Brownie to come down again. It’s the first time that he’s asked while he’s been in a good mood. He’s almost glad that Brownie can’t remember any of this, because he’s spent more than his fair share listening to Tyler cry about his problems.

Tyler may have a soulmate who hates him, or be stuck in a Soul Loop alone, and falling even more in love with someone else by the Loop, but he still knows how lucky he is to have a friend like Brownie.

He even does his best to be exactly on time getting out of the gate, not wanting to stir up the weirdness from the last few Loops. Whatever it was he was doing the throw everything off seems to have resolved itself, because Jamie isn’t being weird anymore. Well, not as weird. Tyler can still catch sideways looks out of the corner of his eye, but with Jamie’s assurance that it’s not a secret regret that Tyler ever came to Dallas, it’s easier to set it aside.

He does wish they’d had time to skate after the signing, but Jamie is being nice enough to take him back to the airport to pick Brownie up, so counts it as a win.

“You’ll love him!” he says. He honestly can’t imagine anyone not loving Brownie.

“Hm,” Jamie says, eyes on the road, hands at firm ten and two.

“You guys will be best friends in no time. The only rule is, he is not allowed to replace me as your favorite Tyler.”

“Who says you’re my favorite Tyler?” Jamie chirps, and Tyler gasps in indignation.

His reunion with Brownie is suitably dramatic. They actually have enough room to run at one another, and Tyler put on enough muscle over the summer to pick Brownie up and spin him around. Just once though, because Brownie is demonstrably bigger than him.

Then Brownie has to pick him up and do the same, so Tyler is a bit dizzy and giggly when he turns back to Jamie, steadying himself with a hand on Brownie’s arm.

“So. Jamie, meet Brownie. Brownie, meet Jamie.”

Jamie has a truly magnificent scowl on his face, presumably at them making a scene at DFW. Whatever, jokes on him. None of this will be in the papers tomorrow.

Brownie doesn’t seem phased by it either way. “Hey, man. Good to meet you.” He sticks his hand out of a shake, and Jamie looks down at it, and takes it with a clear reluctance.

“You too,” he says, with a total lack of sincerity.

Brownie raises an eyebrow, and looks over at Tyler. Tyler shrugs.

“We’d better head back. Bags?” Jamie says, still using his robot voice.

“Nah. Segs asked me to come, so hear I am.”

Which is true, but the way he says it— when Jamie just nods and turns away, Tyler catches Brownie’s eye and mouths ‘what the fuck.’

Brownie, the motherfucker, just gives him a wink. “Better go catch your Captain.”

And yeah, that’s fair. Damn, how does Jamie even move that fast.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome to Casa Benn,” Tyler says, nudging the door open. He should maybe be a bit more cautious, but no one has called him on it yet, and he doesn’t doubt that Brownie would at least give him a courtesy elbow to the ribs if he oversteps. Besides, Tyler has all but lived here for at least two months. Probably more.

Jordie comes out of the kitchen, looking surprised to see them again. “I thought you went back out?”

“And now we’re back again,” Jamie says, shouldering past his brother into the kitchen. Tyler watches him go, baffled. He can’t even begin to imagine what he did this time.

“Tyler Brown. Brownie,” Brownie says, waving at Jordie.

Jordie’s eyebrows go up. “Are we starting a collection?”

“He’s just visiting,” Jamie says.

“I dunno. If Segs asks, I’d stay longer,” Brownie says. Which is news to Tyler, not least because he _can’t_ , Brownie’s own seasons starts pretty soon. That, and, of course, he literally can’t stay longer, because whenever tomorrow happens, he’ll be back home.

“Seggy doesn’t have anywhere to stay yet. He’s crashing on the couch, but I’m not sure if we have room for another person.”

Which, rude. Tyler is pretty sure he has reservations… somewhere. He definitely had a hotel for those first few Loops. If he searches his email he can probably find it.

“It’s cool, Segs and I can share the couch.” Brownie slings an arm over Tyler’s shoulders. “We’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, when we were _drunk_ ,” Tyler retorts, shrugging him off.

Jordie looks between Jamie and Brownie. “Ooookay then.” He ducks back into the kitchen.

“So,” Tyler starts, and then falters when no one jumps in to complete the sentence. He is abruptly drawing a blank on every single thing he has ever done in this apartment. “Mario Kart?” he throws out after a desperate minute.

No one moves.

“Jordie! Mario Kart?” he calls, raising his voice.

“Sounds good!” Jordie calls back.

“I’ll go set it up,” Jamie says, sounding pretty mad for someone about to get play a sweet game of Mario Kart.

Brownie catches his eye and jerks his head at Jamie. Tyler shrugs, and makes a gesture for Brownie to hold on a sec. Jamie is focusing on switching inputs like his life depends on it, and Tyler wanders over to his side as casually as he can.

“You cool, dude?”

“Fine,” Jamie says shortly.

“Uh-huh.” Tyler watches Jamie navigate the setup screen. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m fine, Segs, God. I just didn’t know you traveled with your own harem.”

Tyler blinks at him, then looks at Brownie, then back to Jamie. “You mean Brownie?”

“Brownie’s not—Brownie’s my bro.”

Jamie isn’t even looking at him, and Tyler can not for the life of him figure out the stick up his butt. “Long way to come, for a bro.”

“Well, yeah. Brownie’s the best.” Jamie punches something on the controller with more force than necessary, and Tyler frowns at him. “Dude, if you have an issue with it, we’ll go to a hotel or some shit.” He won’t be happy about it, he’d _wanted_ Brownie and Jamie to meet, but.

Jamie finally looks over at him, and his eyes are slightly wild. “You want to leave?”

“Um, no? But you seem like you’re about to have a fucking stroke over there. We can get out of your hair.”

“I don’t want—you’d _leave_ though? For him?” Jamie’s getting way up in his space, weird and intent and Tyler would normally be into that, but he has totally lost track of the conversation.

“He came all this way?” he says, and it comes out as a question. That shit is contagious.

“All good?”

And Tyler closes his eyes because he loves Brownie, he does, but talk about timing. Brownie shoves his way into Tyler’s side, arms crossed and glaring at Jamie.

“Fine,” Jamie retorts, but at least he leans back.

“Look dude, I needed by best bro for a bit, okay? You’ve never wanted a friend around?”

“Just a friend?” Jamie asks, eyes moving from Tyler to Brownie suspiciously. Tyler has a sudden, sinking sensation as he realizes whats going on. He’s been in hockey long enough, been around enough closeted guys to know that some guys can be gay, can even admit it, but they still get uptight about seeing two guys together.

And there isn’t anything going on with Brownie and never will be, but Jamie won’t be the first to think it, and probably won’t be the last.

Brownie picks up on the issue at the same time that Tyler does, and he slings a casual arm around Tyler’s waist, pulling him in closer. “Got an issue?”

Jamie’s face doesn’t change but his hands go so tight on the controller that Tyler can hear the plastic creak. He opens his mouth, and Tyler’s stomach drops and then—

“Hey, Chubbs, can I see you for a sec?”

“In a second,” Jamie says, not taking his eyes from Brownie’s hand on Tyler’s waist.

“No, now,” Jordie says, firm. Jamie looks over at him, and Tyler follows his look. Jordie has his arms crossed in the doorway to the kitchen, and he looks like he’s about to enter a faceoff on the ice.

“Fine,” Jamie snaps, throwing the controller down onto the couch. “Fine!”

When he crosses the threshold to the kitchen, enough of a lip to the door that it’s not a direct line of sight, Tyler turns and rests his head on Brownie’s shoulder. “What the fuck, dude?” he mutters.

“Sorry, I was trying to help.”

“Not you. Just. Sorry, Brownie, I didn’t think he would,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “I wanted you two to meet.”

Brownie gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I dunno. I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”

Tyler pulls back. “You don’t think he’s being a homophobic shithead over our fictional romance?” He hadn’t told Brownie about Jamie playing for Tyler’s team. He made a promise and not even for Brownie would he break it.

Brownie stares at the kitchen door. “I have an alternate theory.”

“Care to share?”

“Nah,” Brownie shakes his head, then looks back at Tyler. “You think he was being homomhobic?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why you,” he gestures between them, indicating Brownie’s hand which, free from scrutiny, has dropped back to his side

Brownie grins. “No, Seggy, that wasn’t the goal.”

Tyler slugs him in the shoulder. “Fucking tell me, you dick.”

Brownie looks back to the kitchen and bites his lip, thoughtful. “Give me a sec.” And then he actually starts to head towards the kitchen. Tyler grabs his arm, because even he knows not to interrupt a Benn family feud.

“Don’t,” he hisses.

Brownie shakes him off. “This will just take a second. I promise I won’t embarrass you.” Yeah, because that was Tyler’s concern.

“Fine, then. I’ll just be out here, alone.” Tyler throws himself down on the couch and sulks. Brownie, more than used to him, rolls his eyes.

And then there was one. Tyler spends about five seconds trying, and failing, to hear any kind of conversation from the kitchen, before he gives up and picks up the controller. Fuck those guys, he’ll play with himself.

He feels very little regret about exiting out of the multiplayer game Jamie had set up to pull up a single player game. He plays Mario, because he always does.

He’s navigating his way through rainbow road, trying to stay just behind first place to avoid a blue shell, when he feels the couch dip on his left. “How’d it go?” he asks.

“It sure went,” Jordie replies, and Tyler jerks. His car goes off the road, and he curses.

“You’re not Brownie.”

“Well done. You’re back on the road.”

Tyler scowls and turns his attention back to the screen. He’s dropped to last place. “What was that all about?”

“Jamie’s an idiot,” Jordie says frankly, and Tyler snorts.

“No arguments here.” He gets the blue shell which, sweet.

“He wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

“Imagine what he could do if he put his mind to it,” Tyler snaps, firing off the blue shell.

Jordie is silent for a long minute, watching Tyler fight his way back up. “You and Brownie are just friends?” he asks once Tyler crosses the finish line. Third place.

“Yes, Jesus. Not that it should matter. Whether or not I’m dating a dude shouldn’t effect the way he treats me.” Tyler is a big boy. He knows the world doesn’t work like that. Whether or not he’s dating a dude will _always_ effect the way people treat him. He just expected more from Jamie.

He needs to remember that, for all the Tyler has spent with him, Jamie may as well be a stranger. He can be hurt when a friend acts like that, but Jamie owes him nothing. Doesn’t know what Tyler considers him a friend, that Tyler is in—

“You’re right,” Jordie says, and Tyler looks over at him. Jordie look sincere. “He was being an asshole. It will probably happen again, but not over this. Okay?”

He can’t promise that, can’t promise anything. He’s clearly said something to _this_ Jamie, but what about the next Jamie, or the one after that. What about when Tyler does find his soulmate and has to keep them a secret from his captain. What if Tyler realizes he can’t love his soulmate, because he’s already in too deep with someone who can’t handle the thought of gay relationships.

“Okay,” Tyler says, because what else can he say. He looks back at the kitchen. “What are they talking about in there?”

“Your next race has started,” Jordie says. And, shit, Tyler has been sitting at the starting line for a good ten seconds, the other cars out of sight.

“Thanks for the warning!”

He comes in second on that race, and is debating starting another set when Brownie and Jamie come out of the kitchen. Jamie looks pale, and Brownie looks smug, and Tyler doesn’t know what to make of that.

“So are we playing or what?” Brownie asks, dropping down on Tyler’s right. Jamie looks at the space between Jordie and Tyler, and thn takes the spot to Jordie’s left. Tyler prefers it when he can press against him, but it does at least put both Jordie and Tyler between Jamie and Brownie.

“What was that about?” he hisses at Brownie while they switch to multiplayer.

“Tell you later,” Brownie replies.

 

* * *

 

Tyler wakes up the next Loop and his first thought is that Brownie didn’t tell him shit, and now Tyler is the only one who even remembers it. He shoots off a text telling Brownie that he’s a dick and gets off the plane.

Then he texts Jamie that his plane was delayed and he won’t be in Dallas at all today. He just—he doesn't want to see Jamie’s face right now.

He gets nachos from a TexMex place, because meal plans mean nothing in a Loop, spends some time messing around on his phone, giving Jamie enough time to head out. He doesn’t want to stay in the airport this time.

After an hour and a overly brief ‘K’ from Jamie— which is weird because as far as he can tell, the dude has never met a word he doesn’t need to spell out in its entirety— he ditches his bags and heads out.

He flags down a cab and, after some consideration, does a quick google of Jamie’s super secret sketchy ice house and gives that address.

It’s weird, being here without Jamie. The silence that had felt comforting around the two of them feels heavy and oppressive now, when he’s always been able to enjoy skating alone before this. He’ll always prefer the crowd of a team, even having one person to play off of, but this aching gap of another person is new.

He pushes the thought away and works his way through Jamie’s stupid drill.

He does it again and again and again, until his jeans are heavy and gross with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his chest. He wonders what Deadspin would say now, using his personal life to fuel his hockey, to get better. They always talk like he’s all about partying and drinking and fucking, like you don’t have to work hard as hell to get to the NHL. Like he didn’t have to give up things like a childhood and a social life and the privilege of holding hands in public with another man.

He closes his eyes, and does the drill again.

 

* * *

 

He ducks out on Jamie again the next day. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t stop thinking about the tight, closed look on Jamie’s face when Brownie put his hand on Tyler’s waist. The way Jamie acted towards one of Tyler’s favorite people just because he thought something might be going on there.

He goes to the zoo, heads over to the Penguins enclosure. Does that make him a traitor to the Stars? Whatever, the Pens aren’t even the same division. He can appreciate their fuzzy real life mascots and still crush them at hockey. How dare Jamie Benn make Tyler fall in love with him at the penguins enclosure. Some captain he is. He should have done it a like, a planetarium or some shit.

Tyler tries to picture him and Jamie at a planetarium, and gives up. He’s pretty sure he’d be expected to listen to people talk about space, and he could just watch Neil DeGrasse Tyson kill his dreams and repeat that Pluto isn’t a planet if he wanted to do that.

One of the penguins falls over and Tyler brings his thoughts down, watching as an older Penguin comes over and nudges it until it strands up.

Fuck Jamie Benn for making Tyler fall in love at a penguins enclosure.

Fuck Jamie Benn for making Tyler fall in love at all.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not like it’s a targeted, but it’s also not _not_ a targeted thing. It’s not like Tyler is passive-aggressively coming out to get back at Jamie.

But it also didn’t have nothing to do with Jamie.

So he text Jamie that he’ll be late and calls one of the few hockey journalists who’s never talked shit about him. Who had said that a move to Dallas might be good for him, that there might have been more going on in Boston then a weak moral core and what did it matter, because none of it effected his slapshot.

Amy Clark is skeptical about taking his call, but that changes real fast when Tyler tells her why he’s calling. He answers her questions as best he can, yes he dates men, no he’s not in a relationship, yes he believes his soulmate will be a man. He doesn’t mention the Loop, doesn’t mention that if he meets his soulmate, it might not even matter.

Then he thanks her, hangs up, and meets Jamie outside.

It’s pretty clear when the news breaks. He signs the contract, puts on the hat, takes the pictures, and is starting to gear up with Jamie when, one by one, every one of the phones in the room starts to go off. It’s an interesting portrait in generations, if nothing else. He watches who gets texts and drops their jaws versus who answers the phone.

He grins down at his skates.

“What did you do?” Jamie hisses.

“What makes you think it’s me?” Tyler asks, tightening his laces.

Then Jamie’s phone lights up. He’s still looking suspiciously at Tyler when he grabs it, so it takes a moment for him to actually look at the text. Then his eyes jerk back up to Tyler, mouth open wide.

“Oh my god, Tyler, what did you _do?”_

Tyler leans into his space to read the text—it’s from Jordie and it says _holy fuck Seguin just came out!_  with a link to the article. “I mean, I think Jordie covered most of it, right there.” He leans over Jamie’s shoulder to click the link. It’s a good photo of him, with the Bruins jersey on and the Cup in his hands. He’ll have to keep Amy in mind when he does this for real, because it wouldn’t have occurred to him, but it drives how that, gay or not, Tyler is a Stanley Cup winner and a damn good hockey player.

Jamie is still gaping at him, so Tyler gets to his feet. “Are we gonna skate or not?”

He doesn’t say anything as he moves towards the ice, letting the reporters shout their questions. Jamie, just behind him, doesn’t say anything either.

Tyler does a few lazy, laps on the ice, get his blood moving, breathing through the panic. Then he turns and heads towards the reporters. “You guys had some questions?”

 

* * *

 

Once the reporters start repeating themselves, Jamie comes over and declares an end to the session. “Seguin and I wanted to run through some drills.” Seguin. Ouch. Then Jamie adds, “after seeing him skate on the Bruins, I’m looking forward to having him on my line and to skating with him today.” It comes out awkward, but Jamie is always awkward around the press. Like a big Canadian moose. And underneath that, he sounds sincere.

“How do you feel about having a gay man on your team?” One of the reporters asks.

“I don’t believe that will make a difference. Seggy is a great skater, and he will be a great addition to the Stars.”

“Do you think this will effect the team dynamics?”

Jamie laughs. “Any time a new teammate comes in, the team dynamics are effected. I think the team will be welcoming and supportive.”

One of the reporters shoves his way to the front, and Tyler knows just looking at him that the question will be a bad one. “Do you think that a gay man really has a place in a sport like hockey?”

Jamie’s face goes still, and Tyler has a brief moment of panic. Then Jamie opens his mouth “I think it would be pretty hypocritical of my to say he didn’t. I’m gay and it has yet to effect my hockey.”

Tyler drops his stick.

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit, dude,” Tyler says, meaning it. Jim Nill and the rest of the Stars management are ushering the reporters out of the arena, but Tyler can’’t even look at them. Can only look at Jamie. “I mean— holy shit.”

Jamie looks a little gray. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Tyler goggles at him. “You can’t believe it? _I_ can’t believe it. Why would you— I can’t believe you just. I didn’t know you were _gay.”_ Which is, obviously, a filthy lie, but sounds better than ‘I thought you were closeted and kind of homophobic.’

Jamie squares his shoulder, and it’s the same face he made just before coming out to the entire Dallas sports community. “Yeah, you did.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t?”

“Look, Tyler.” Jamie takes a deep breath. “I need to tell you—”

He’s cut off by no lesser person than Jim Nill himself. “I don’t think I need to tell you boys what a tight place you’ve put us in.”

Jamie actually grits his teeth before turning to face Jim, which seems a bit on the strong side. It’s not like the man doesn’t have a point.

“Sorry, sir,” Tyler says, skating right up to the boards. “I needed to start on the new team honest. Hiding it in Boston caused more problems then it solved.”

Jim rubs at his temple. “Well, I respect that you think that. I wish it could have happened different—we have a PR team for this shit, but I can’t fault your logic. What’s your excuse, Benn?”

“You heard the shit they were saying, sir. I just got the C, whats it for if not to stick up for my team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jim says with feeling. “This would be a lot easier if either of you were less goddamn sincere about it.” Tyler mentally files ‘sincere’ down on his coming out check list. Jim studies them both, then sighs. “Get out of here, both of you. We’ll handle this just, don’t talk to any more press.”

Tyler gives a little salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

Jamie just gives a sharp nod, presumably overcome with all the talking he’s already had to do, and heads back onto the ice. Tyler hangs back a moment, watching his powerful legs move.

“I am sorry about this,” he says to Jim. It’s not his fault that Tyler’s in a Loop, the poor man has know way of knowing that this doesn’t matter. In this moment, here and now, it does matter to Jim, and that's not nothing.

Jim just gives him a look. “Is it always like this with you, Seguin?”

Tyler shrugs, uncomfortable. “I hope not.”

Jim sighs. “Well. The reasons we want you haven’t changed. I wish this could have been handled differently, but I still think you’ll be good for the team.”

Tyler can feel a grin spread over his face. “Yeah?”

Jim just sighs again, but Tyler is pretty sure he catches a smile there. “Go skate with your captain.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Tyler says again.

 

* * *

 

He does a few more lazy loops around the rink before gliding over to Jamie. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jamie sighs. “Yeah, I really did.”

Tyler leans on his stick, which is a big hockey no-no, and studies him. “I don’t know what to do with you, Benn.”

“What do you want to do to me?” Jamie asks, sliding Tyler a coy look. His voice is low, and it is, unmistakably, flirting.

Tyler fumbles the pass.

“I—what?” He’s getting whiplash from this boy. In almost three months of Loops, Jamie has never shown a hint—and now, after Tyler has all but given up.

Jamie ducks his head back down. “Nothing.”

Tyler wants to press the subject. Wants to push Jamie against the boards and demand an answer.

He doesn’t want to hear what the answer could be.

Tyler turns away, shifts his attention deliberately to the net. “Bet I can get more in than you.”

“You’re on,” Jamie says, and if his voice is quieter than normal, Tyler pretends not to notice.

 

* * *

 

“You stole my thunder, you know,” Tyler tells Jamie on the ride back to the Benn apartment. When they stop at a light, he angle his phone so that Jamie can see the headline, “This one doesn’t even mention me.”

He doesn’t miss the way that Jamie’s shoulders go tight. “What are they saying?”

“Nothing bad,” Tyler says. Which is true enough, for this article. And for the most part, the articles about Jamie are kinder than the ones about him. “Twitter is blowing up. They think I got traded here because you and I are dating.”

Jamie makes a choked noise, barely getting it together by the time the light changes. Tyler absently comments ‘I would be so lucky!’ on one of the more prominent tweets.

“#DallasStars, #Bennguin and both our names are trending. Do you think we could swing top 5 by the end of the day?” When Jamie says nothing, Tyler adds, “Bennguin is what they’re calling us. Like Brangelina. I mean, personally I’d prefer 1491— 9114? No, 1491— since there is another Benn, but good luck controlling the Internet.”

“They’re saying that we’re— that you and I are—” Jamie falters. Tyler frowns down at his phone. Jamie could at least _say_ it.

“Don’t worry. I set them straight.” He snorts. “Ha. Straight.” Jamie doesn’t laugh, and Tyler sighs. “I already said you’re way too good for me.” Nothing. “Come on, Chubbs, I’m trying my best here, but that’s going to happen when two people come out together. I’m sorry you’re like, fictionally stuck with me but I don’t know what else I can do.” He frowns. “I could issue a statement, I guess. But Jim did say not to talk to the press, and I’d rather—”

“No!”

“Uh. No, what?”

Jamie’s hands are white knuckled on the steering wheel. “No, you don’t have to make a statement. It’s fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Tyler says dubiously.

“I’m sure.” Then. “What about you? I mean, if you mind…”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Really?”

“I mean, obviously? It only improves my image to be seen with a guy like you. You’re way out my league, it’s flattering.”

He’s still mostly staring at this phone, but he can still see the way Jamie scowls from the corner of his eye. That’s how incredible the scowl is.

“Stop saying that,” Jamie snaps.

Tyler’s hands tighten convulsively on his phone, and he ducks his head, feeling sick. “Yeah. Sorry, dude. Won’t happen again.” He takes a deep breath. “I really can issue a statement, if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t,” Jamie lies. Fine then. No press, but don’t talk about their fictional relationship, message fucking received.

Tyler rests his head on the passenger window. “Can you take me to my hotel?”

“What?”

“It’s the,” he searches his memory, “the Hilton. By the airport.” It’s a total guess, but whatever. It’s not like he can’t just get a new room.

“I thought. Aren’t you coming back to the apartment?”

Yeah, because Jamie seems to psyched to be around him right now. “It’s cool. I’m pretty tired.” When Jamie still hesitates, Tyler adds, “I promise I won’t talk to the press.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jamie says, soft. “I trust you.”

Tyler curls his body more towards the window and watches the skyline pass by.

 

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t kidding when he said Jamie stole his thunder. The whole point of this was to try and get the coming out right, to see how everyone would react. Instead, everything has been sidetracked by Jamie’s revelation and #Bennguin. He tries to find anything that came out in the hour between when Amy’s article came out and when Jamie came out, and finds very little. Jamie rather swept the table on that.

Instead, he tortures himself by reading the articles, the tweets and the hockey articles and the press release the Stars team puts out later in the day. The do make all of the Top 5 on twitter, but only because #BoycottStars starts trending as well.

After that, Tyler turns his phone off.

 

* * *

 

It seems stupid, but one of the things Tyler wants most right now is a calendar. He wants one single thing other than his memories to last from Loop to Loop. Even just a scrap of papers to make tallies on. Even Tom Hanks in Castaway had tally marks.

Huh.

Tyler should also be more concerned about his the increasing parallels between his life and various Tom Hanks movies. He’d have been happy with _You’ve Got Mail_.

He’s pretty sure that he’s hit the three month mark, or that it’s coming up. He’s glad that everything worked out for Simon, but takes another day off from Jamie, and spends the entire day running through the stupid drill. It’s stupid, meaningless, but he wants to get it right on his own. He can’t shake the mental image of showing it off to Jamie.

He can all but see it, the bright ice of the center, the chill in the arm, doing the drill perfectly, his skates cutting on the ice. Doing a proper celly, Jamie joining him.

Tyler is holding that image in his mind when he gets it right.

He runs through it three times, four. It doesn’t matter. His knows it now. It had been like this when he first started playing hockey. He’d learned how to skate backwards months after the rest of his class, but once he had it, he had it perfectly. He could race anyone backwards, and win every time after just a week of getting it down.

For the first time in (possibly?) three months, Tyler goes to sleep looking forward to the next Loop.

 

* * *

 

He’s practically buzzing with excitement for the entire car ride to the rink, to the point that Jamie clearly notices.

“Excited for something?” he asks, tone heavy with amusement.

“Just can’t wait to be a Star!” Tyler replies. Jamie ducks his head and smiles down at the steering wheel, and Tyler’s heart flips over. “Do you think we could skate after the thing?”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Cool.” Tyler beams at him.

Jamie turns his head and smiles back at him. “Cool.”

It takes the car behind them honking to get Jamie’s attention back on the road, and Tyler smiles the entire way to the center.

 

* * *

 

He signs the papers, shakes the hands, puts on the hat. He tells the press he’s excited to be here, looking forward to being on the team, and he all but runs to the locker room.

“Jesus, Seguin, where’s the fire?” Jamie asks. Tyler comes back for him and grabs his wrist, tugging him along. Jamie goes, laughing.

Surprisingly, Jamie is ready before Tyler is, and when Tyler stands to meet him, Jamie hands Tyler his preferred stick. Tyler’s been through this enough— more than enough— that he doesn’t have to test each stick for the right height and curve.

“Damn, good guess,” he says, hefting it in his hands.

“Looked like your kinda stick,” Jamie replies. Tyler keeps back a reply of what _exactly_ his kind of stick is by the skin of his teeth. Jamie always gets weird when he gets flirty, and Tyler isn’t going to ruin this.

“I want to show you something,” he says.

“Please don’t let it be your penis.”

Tyler’s head jerks up, in time to see a flush rising over Jamie’s face. “Jamie Benn! Did you just make a sex joke?”

Jamie pushes past him, but the tips of his ears are red. “No. Shut up.”

“You did!” Tyler crows, following. “I’m putting this in my calendar. Alert the presses!” He turns like he’s actually going to tell the press, and Jamie catches his shoulder.

“You wanted to show me something?”

“Oh, yeah!”

He gets in a few rounds around the board, warming up his muscles, hyper-aware of Jamie doing the same.

“Alright, check it out!” He moves in closer, the ice too large between the two of them to take center ice just for the drama of it. Jamie makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. Tyler takes a breath, and runs through the drill.

He does it perfectly. Then, after a moment, does it again, just because he can. When he comes to a stop, he’s grinning.

Then Jamie slams into him, pounding on his back like Tyler just scored a game-winning goal. “You did it!” Jamie shouts. “Holy shit, you did it!”

“I did it!” Tyler says, laughing and grabbing Jamie back. It forces them both into a small spin before Jamie pulls back.

“You’ve been practicing on your own, you cheater!”

“It’s not cheating!” Tyler protests. “It’s… it’s…” he trails off. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How did you know that I’ve been practicing on my own?”

Jamie’s smile falters, and if Tyler didn’t know him— if this was truly the first day they met— he might have bought it. “What do you mean?”

Tyler’s whole body feels cold. “That drill. There’s no way you could— that should be the first time you saw that.”

“Tyler—”

“I _have_ been practicing. But _you_ showed me that drill. No one else would know I was having trouble with it. No one else could _possibly—”_ Tyler moves back, further away from Jamie. “How long.”

Jamie skates forward, and Tyler stumbles back away from him, almost falling over.

“How _long?_ ” he demands, shouting. The cameras are shuttering and Tyler could not give less of a damn.

Jamie closes his eyes, his hands falling to his sides. “The whole time, Segs.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tyler spits. Jamie flinches back, and Tyler thinks _good_ before he turns and skates off the ice.

 

* * *

 

He’s battling the laces of his skates when Jamie rushes in, all but throwing his body against the door to hold off reporters.

“Tyler, please,” Jamie says, out of breath and flushed. He locks the door and comes towards Tyler.

“Are we soulmates?” Tyler asks, not looking up from his laces. He’s been doing his own skates since before he could read, this isn’t _hard._

“I—yeah, Tyler. I think we are.”

“You think? It’s kind of an either or thing, Jamie.” He gets one boot undone and starts on the other. He’d tangled it hopelessly by yanking at it in those furious, desperate moments.

Jamie makes a noise, and Tyler can hear the irritation in it without looking up. He hunches over and digs his fingers into the worst of the knot. “Fine then. You’re my soulmate! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?”

Tyler gives up on the knot and picks up his free skate, hacking at the laces with th blade until they split. “Am I _happy_?” he repeats, incredulous. He gets to his feet, fury bubbling through him. If this were a game, he’d have already dropped his gloves. “Am I happy that my—” he chokes on the word, unable to say it to Jamie’s face, “that you lied to me for three fucking months?” He strides over to Jamie in his socked feet. In skates, Jamie towers over him. “Am I happy that I’ve spent the past three months in a Loop by myself, sure that I was going to die here?” He can feel the anger leaving him, as quickly as it came, and he tries to hold onto it, because the alternative is crying. “Am I happy that my own soulmate didn’t want me, would rather keep living through this stupid charade rather than tell me the truth?”

He pushes past Jamie, unlocks the door. All his gear; his skates, his pads, his new Stars jersey, is on the floor of the locker room and he couldn’t care less. “No, Jamie. I’m not _fucking_ happy about this.”

The hallways is empty, devoid of reporters. Jim and the PR people must have hurried them out, not wanting to document a fight between their captain and their newest players. Still in his socks, Tyler heads to the door. His phone is still back in the locker room. His wallet. His _shoes._

He keeps going. He can’t go back there now. He’d rather wait in a supply closet for the whole center to shut down than go back.

It’s hot outside, a Texas summer, but he still feels chilled to the bone, iced over and hollow. He spends a moment just looking out at the parking lot. Why did he never learn to hotwire cars?

If he goes back in, he could probably get one of the staff to call him a cab, could probably even avoid Jamie while he does. Instead, Tyler leans back against the wall, tilting his head up to the sky.

“Hey, man. You alright?”

Tyler looks up, and stares. It’s Jordie. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Then. “Jamie called you.”

“My brother is an idiot,” Jordie says, and Tyler snorts.

“Your brother is a fucking dick.”

Jordie shrugs, “He has his moments. Did you need a ride?”

Tyler glances over Jordie’s shoulder. It’s not the exact same truck as Jamie’s— the color is different, and he doesn’t know enough about cars to be sure, but he thinks it’s a different model. “Are you hear to plead his case?”

“Hell no. Chubbs got himself into this mess, he’ll have to get himself out of it.”

“He can fucking try,” Tyler mutters meanly. He looks back at the center. He probably has only a matter of seconds before Jamie does come out and try to talk to him again. “Just a ride?”

“Promise.”

Tyler isn’t exactly flush with options. He climbs into Jordie’s truck. “If you say one word about your dickass brother, I will tuck and roll out of this car, I swear to god.”

Jamie gets into the passenger seat. “Message received.”

As they pull out of the parking lot, Tyler is aware of the looks Jordie keeps shooting him. “What?”

“It’s just weird, that’s all. You obviously know me. But we’ve just met.”

“Welcome to my fucking life,” Tyler says. Then, after a moment. “So he told you.”

“This morning. Probably most mornings.”

“That makes one of us.”

Jordie makes a low noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “You hungry?”

Tyler glances back out the window, catching sight of a familiar building. “Yeah, but not the diner.” He’d sat there with Jamie, studying routines, wanting to do the dramatic reveal. And Jamie had let him, had known every spill and word and event as clearly as Tyler had, and he’d sat there and—

Tyler’s face burns, and he ducks his head down. “Where’s the best place to get drunk around here?”

For a minute, he thinks Jordie will deny him. Then he makes the next right, getting off the path that leads to sandwiches. “I know just the place.”

Tyler leans his head against the window and breathes. “Let’s fucking do it.”

When he wakes up on the plane, the first thing that he does is call Brownie. “Did you know?”

“Wha?” Brownie says, sleep muddled and confused. Tyler hangs up on him.

He can’t believe—he can barely handle— This WHOLE TIME. Almost _three months._ Three fucking months. Ninety days.

Ninety days of Tyler falling in love with Jamie, and thinking that he’s fucked everything up. Of thinking that his soulmate doesn’t want him and he’ll be stuck here forever and—

Except.

Except he hadn’t been _wrong_ about that. What other reason could there be, for Jamie to stay silent? What other way could he read it, except as a thorough and explicit repudiation of everything that he is.

Jamie had looked at Tyler, on that first Loop, and he’d thought. No. Not this one.

And, god. He’d shown up at the airport. Every day for three months, and he’d been there like clockwork, forcing himself through the routine so that Tyler wouldn’t catch on.

Tyler could have taken the hint. Taken the rejection. Jamie could have come up to him, on that second day. Could said “no, thanks.” And given him a chaste kiss and saved them both three months of fucking suffering.

Instead, he’d let Tyler fall in love with him.

Tyler thinks he can forgive Jamie for lying. He doesn’t know if he can forgive him for the rest

He goes to the bar, and he’s been here often enough now that if the bartender could remember him day to day, he’d be a regular.

“My soulmate doesn’t want me,” he tells the bartender.

And proceeds to get totally and thoroughly wasted.

 

* * *

 

Every time he’s needed a break Jamie, from his own emotions and the entire situation, he’s just stayed in the airport. There’s enough to last him a lifetime, he never has to leave. Fully embrace being Tom Hanks.

It doesn’t occur to him that it only works because Jamie has been holding onto the original timeline, maintaining the fiction.

“You’re an idiot,” Jamie says, dropping down next to Tyler at the bar. It’s his third day here and Tyler is actually getting pretty sick of alcohol. He’s only had the one drink, and he turns to it like it’s betrayed him.

“How did you get in here?” The airport is supposed to be _safe._

“I bought a ticket,” Jamie says, like it’s obvious.

“To _where?”_

_“_ What does that—Austin. It was the cheapest one.”

Tyler snorts into his drink. “Like that’s a concern. What, I wasn’t worth the money?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Fine, next time I’ll buy a ticket to Timbuktu.”

Tyler doesn’t know where Timbuktu is, but it does sound far. Jamie gestures to the bartender, indicates Tyler’s drink and holds up two fingers.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler says.

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking obvious.”

And Tyler cannot _believe_ that Jamie is pissed at him.

“Can you _blame_ me?”

Jamie meets his glare head on, returning it with one of his own, and Tyler can’t get distracted, can’t focus on the heat in those dark eyes, the furrow in his brow, the way it makes his jaw tense, look stronger and more chiseled and— fuck.

Tyler looks away, and tosses back the rest of his drink in one go. It burns going down.

Then Jamie lets out a long sigh and turns, putting his back to the bar and leaning his elbows against it. “No. No, I don’t blame you.”

“Well.” Tyler hadn’t expected that. “Good.”

They both sit there for a moment, silent. The bartender puts down the two drinks and leaves.

“It was a shitty thing to do,” Tyler says.

“I know.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah.”

“And a fucking liar.”

“I mean, technically I didn’t—” Tyler swivels his head to give Jamie a filthy look, and Jamie stops. “Yes. I am.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“What do you fucking _think,_ Benn?” Tyler snaps.

Jamie drums his fingers on the bar. “At first? I just—I wasn’t sure.”

Tyler snorts. “Yeah, I was real discreet about it.”

Jamie is silent, and Tyler looks over to him. His face is drawn, pale. He curls his fingers around his drink, knuckles going white. “I knew it was you. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.”

The words go through him like a knife. It’s— it’s everything he’s been afraid of. Afraid of for the last three months, for the last ten years. He wants to be surprised, and he can’t find it in himself. He knows Jamie now, knows how good and honest he is. How utterly unlike Tyler. What would he do with a soulmate like Tyler, a party boy who had helped his team to the Cup and still not been worth keeping.

“I’m trying to be honest,” Jamie says, and he sounds pained. Well, he can join the fucking club. Tyler wants to make a sarcastic comment, wants to play it off or dig it in, but the words don’t come. “I wanted to see who you were.”

“But that’s the whole point of the Loops,” Tyler says, and he hears in in his voice, even as he says it. The quiet, aching, hollowness is heavy in each syllable. “To get to know one another. We could have been—” they could have done this right. Gone on the dates, done the silly things from every Loop-com. Splashed naked through a fountain, talked about their lives. Been there together, instead of alone.

“I know,” Jamie says below. “I know that. But if you’d known, and you’d said something after the Loop, if it got out— I only just got the C, we haven’t even announced it yet, and I didn’t— I couldn’t—” he bites his lip, staring down at his drink. The subtext is clear. He couldn’t trust Tyler. Whether he thought Tyler was too indiscreet to keep a secret or too much an asshole to try, it doesn’t matter.

“So what was the plan? Live in the Loop until we both died? To kiss me and hope I wouldn’t fucking notice when it was suddenly tomorrow?”

Jamie still won’t look at him. “By the time I— I knew I had to tell you. But it had already been— it always seemed too late.”

“No fucking shit.”

“You’re amazing, Tyler. The first time I saw you skate— god. I’ve seen your tapes, of course, I was there at the All Stars game, but.” He shakes his head, and Tyler can’t help but see the way his mouth curls up, like he can’t help himself. “You’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and I wanted to tell you every fucking day. I just—”

“I can’t do this,” Tyler says, standing up so fast he knocks over his chair. “I can’t, please stop.”

Jamie catches his wrist as he moves to leave. “I’m so, so sorry, Tyler. What can I do to prove it?”

Tyler yanks his arm away. “Leave me the fuck alone. You didn’t want me as a soulmate? Fine. I don’t want you either.”

He might have had a better chance of fooling either one of them if his voice hadn’t wobbled precariously in the middle, but he strides away before Jamie can call his bluff.

 

* * *

 

Tyler isn’t big on phone calls. He prefers it to no contact at all, but he’s always been a face to face kind of person. Which is probably still not a good enough reason for what he does next.

He doesn’t have time to regret it until he’s already on a plane back to the east coast, watching Dallas fall away below him. He has a lot of sympathy for Simon, who had spent half his loop like this. Still, there are advantages. No way can Jamie follow him here— even if he did know where Tyler was headed it would be mid-afternoon before the next flight and the Loop would be over before he even landed.

The real regrets don’t set in until the plane is landing, and at that point he may as well see it through. He does have to turn his phone back on—and ignore five texts and a missed call from Jamie— and send more than a few texts to people who text other people to get an address, but an hour later, a cab is dropping him off outside Sidney Crosby’s house in Pittsburgh.

He’s had almost no contact with Crosby before this, and the last time he saw him was on the handshake line after knocking the Penguins out of their playoff spot, so he doesn’t have high hopes. But, he’s come this far, and they are both Canadian. It’s not like the Russian clique, but here in the States, it’s not nothing.

He rings the bell.

Then, after a moment, he rings it again.

“Hello?” the voice is distorted through the speaker, but he’s pretty sure it’s Crosby. What the _fuck_ is Tyler doing here?

“Um, hi. This is Seguin? Tyler Seguin. I play hockey?”

“From the Bruins?”

Tyler winces. “Formerly.”

There is a long pause, broken by the static from the speaker.

“Why are you here?”

Hell if he knows. “I,” Tyler hesitates. He came all this way, and he’s now faced with the sudden possibility that Crosby won’t even let him through the gate. “We’re both Canadian,” he blurts out.

“What.” It’s not a question.

“I mean,” Tyler presses a fist to his head. No reason not to be honest. “I’m in my Loop.”

Another long pause. Then the speaker makes a low tone, and the gate slides open. Crosby isn’t the kind of guy who needs to have a long driveway or expansive grounds— which almost makes up for the fact that he allegedly has a hockey rink in his _basement—_ so Tyler doesn’t feel too awkward making the walk up.

Crosby is already waiting on the doorstep when he gets there, in basketball shorts and a too-big t-shirt. He looks smaller out of gear. Tyler’s attention is caught by his bare feet.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Crosby coughs, and Tyler jerks his gaze back up. Crosby has his arms crossed and looks unimpressed.

“Hey,” Tyler says, and waves. Crosby raises his eyebrows. Tyler tucks his hands into his pockets, feeling awkward. This whole thing was a mistake.

Crosby gives him a once over, and Tyler is acutely aware of the fact that he hasn’t had a shower in like, three months. Not that it matters in a Loop, but he gets the distinct impression that Crosby can somehow sense it.

Then Crosby sighs and pushes back on the door. “You may as well come in.”

“Thanks, man.” Crosby’s entryway is huge. Tyler feels like he should take off his shoes just being here. Crosby doesn’t ask though, so Tyler ignores the impulse. Crosby is another hockey player, not his mom. He probably doesn’t care about shit like shoes on the carpet.

“Drink?”

“Please.” He accepts a cold beer, the proper Canadian kind he’d never been able to find in Boston, and watches Crosby open up a gatorade. Nerd.

“So,” Crosby says, after a long silence spent silently drinking and watching one another. “Your Loop, huh?”

“Yep,” Tyler replies, popping the P.

“Why’d you come here?”

Tyler puts his drink down. As much as he’d like to, there’s no real point to equivocating on this. “It’s my new Captain.”

Crosby frowns, and sets down his own drink. There’s no need for him to ask “You got traded to,” he hesitates, “ah,”

“Dallas,” Tyler supplies, when it becomes clear that the name of his new team is not about to come out of Crosby’s mouth. Crosby does have the grace to look a bit embarrassed by it.

“Sorry,” Crosby says, though whether that's at the concept of Dallas or for not knowing about Tyler’s trade. Tyler could care less, honestly, it’s nice that not everyone in professional hockey has his latest screwups easily at hand. Then, “Wait, who is their captain now? Marrow is a Penguin now.”

Tyler rolls his shoulders, uncomfortable. “It hasn’t been announced yet, but it’s Jamie Benn.”

Crosby nods knowingly. “He’s suited for it. Good for him.” His gaze focuses back on Tyler. “So why are you here, in Pittsburgh, and not enjoying your Loop.”

Tyler scratches absently at the beer label. “Well. I thought you could help. Maybe, have advice?”

There’s no need for Crosby to ask why, not when Crosby had one of the most well known Loops in professional hockey. Instead, Crosby lets out a long sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Want to sit?”

Tyler is actually debating the option of just running out the door and just spending the rest of this Loop in a Pittsburgh dive bar, but sitting sounds nice too. “Sure.”

“So, what has you flying all the way out here to ask me a few questions,” Crosby asks, once they’ve both taken a seat.

“I just wanted to know how you handled it. When you found out. What were you thinking.”

Crosby ducks his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “You know, it actually took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure it out. It wasn’t a game day, and the next day wasn’t supposed to be either, and my routine is pretty much the same if I don’t have something planned.”

“You don’t say,” Tyler says dryly. Crosby’s routines are infamous, even for hockey players.

“It wasn’t until Geno showed up the door for the second time that I actually put it together.”

“But you were fine with it? You didn’t like, freak out and refuse to talk to him?”

Crosby gives him another look, startled and confused. “How deep in your Loop are you?”

Tyler twists his hands in his lap. “It’s been about three months.”

Crosby whistles. “I take it this is your first time visiting me, or you would have come up with something better then ‘We’re both Canadian,’”

“Shut up,” Tyler says. It says a lot about hockey that the chirp actually relaxes him.

“So who is freaking out? You or Benn.”

“Jamie is. Well. I guess I am too, but. He didn’t tell me.”

“Didn’t tell you,” Crosby repeats slowly. “And, what, you didn’t put the pieces together? You didn’t get suspicious when you were living the same day over and over ninety something times?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Tyler says. “He didn’t tell me he was my soulmate.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me. Did he need to?”

Tyler drops his head back against the couch. “It was my first day in Dallas, cut me a break. I must have shaken fifty hands.”

“Well, yeah, but I’d think you’d catch on when he was the only one acting differently.”

“He didn’t though!” Tyler bursts out. “Three months, and he showed up at the airport for every single one of them. He shook my hand and introduced himself and acted like we were total strangers the entire fucking time.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“That fucking sucks.”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah, thank you for that assessment, Crosby. So. I just wanted to know if this was like, a hockey, captain thing? Or is it, is it a me thing?”

“You shouldn’t rule out the possibility that it’s a him thing too,” Crosby points out. “But if you’re asking if I tried to pretend that I didn’t know who Geno was, no, I didn’t. There was a lot of freaking out, from both of us, but we were in it together.” Tyler’s face must do something, because Crosby adds, “But I also wasn’t Captain yet, when Geno came over. I don’t know if that would have changed anything, but…” he trails off. “Besides, there are a lot of differences in captains. Look at me and Ovechkin.” He shudders dramatically.

“I guess,” Tyler says, dubious. “I still just—I don’t know if I can get past it.”

Beside him, Crosby is silent. “You know, Geno and I don’t talk about our Loop much.” Tyler snorts, because he’s watched the media, and thats a hell of an understatement. “It wasn’t easy. It was fucking hard, actually. Between the language barrier and his countries views and my own reservations about, well, everything, it sucked for most of it. We were in our Loop for almost six months.”

Tyler sucks in a sharp breath, because that was something that had _certainly_ never made it to the press. There had been clues that it had been a long Loop, the same clues that had made it impossible to hide once the Loop ended— things like how a kid from Russia had gotten on a plane with no English and gone onto the ice as a conversational speaker, things like how they had played together, easy and smooth from Game 1— but neither of them talked about it after the initial press conference.

“But it’s worth it,” Crosby continues. “I mean, it was for me. For us. I can’t speak for you, or for anyone else. But you came here for advice, so here it is; the Loop is hard, and the world sucks and hockey is homophobic as hell. Having a soulmate is the scariest thing that will ever happen, and that includes the NHL, but it’s also one of the best things that will happen to you,” he smiles, wry. “And that includes the NHL.”

Tyler’s throat feels tight, and he nods rather than risk speaking. “I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him,” he whispers.

“I’m not saying you should. But bare minimum, you’re on the same team, and if you can’t find a way forward, its going to effect more than your love life.”

Tyler lets that rock through him and _fuck._ He hadn’t even thought of that. He only just got traded to the Stars, coming in on a wave of bad press and controversy. If he can’t make it work here, he might be finished in the NHL.

Crosby looks about to say something else when they both hear the sound of the door opening.

“Sid? I’m home!” The voice is unmistakably Russian, and even if that hadn’t given it away, the look that flashes across Crosby’s face would have. It’s the kind of look that sinks hooks into Tyler’s stomach, that reminds him why he had spent so much of his early life wanting a soulmate.

“In here!” Crosby calls.

Malkin appears in the doorway and stops at the sight of Tyler on the couch.

“Seguin?”

“We have company,” Crosby says unnecessarily, as Tyler gives an awkward wave.

“I see this,” Malkin says, leaning over the back of the couch to give Crosby a quick kiss. It’s chaste, subdued, but Tyler looks away, unable to bear the quiet intimacy of it. The two of them never kiss in public, never act as anything more than teammates on the ice and friends off of it.

Tyler catches sight of the bags in Malkin’s hands, unmistakably grocery bags. “Do you live here?” he blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Crosby flushes, and Malkin gives Tyler a dirty look, using his superior height and standing position to loom over him. “If you say—”

“Geno, come on,” Crosby says. Then, to Tyler, “please don’t announce it, though. It’s not a secret, but,” he trails off, biting his lip.

Tyler raises both hands placating. “Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t!”

Geno gives him a suspicious look. “I see twitter,” he says menacingly, and Tyler goes hot with shame.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says as Crosby looks between him and Geno in confusion.

“Tyler is in the middle of his Loop,” Crosby says, and Tyler jolts at the use of his first name. Apparently all it takes to get past that initial awkwardness is a too-intimate baring of the soul. “Three months, wasn’t it?”

“Three months nothing,” Malkin says, but he softens slightly. “Why you come here?”

“We’re both Canadian,” Crosby replies, mouth twitching. Malkin turns his suspicious look on Crosby, who gives him a winning smile. Tyler can’t help but laugh.

“Canadians weird,” Malkin pronounces after a moments contemplation, which is rich coming from a Russian. He ducks in to steal another kiss from Crosby and heads into the kitchen.

“Want to stay for dinner?” Crosby offers.

Tyler shrugs. “No point in flying back.” He’s never been very good at being properly Canadian, which would have entailed politely refusing and going out to find a hotel to pass out in.

Crosby nods, like the issue is settled. “Do me a favor?” he asks before Tyler can get up.

“Um, okay?”

“Tell me about this when the Loop breaks. I know I won’t remember, but— well, you know shit now. I’d like to know that you know it.”

Tyler thinks this over. “Yeah, sounds fair.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

And they both get up and move into the kitchen.

It’s fun enough, watching Malkin and Crosby bicker over which protein to cook and how much butter is allowed in the mashed potatoes, but Tyler can’t help but think that he’d rather be back in the Benn apartment, playing Mario Kart with Jamie.

 

* * *

 

Tyler falls asleep in the Crosby-Malkin spare bedroom and wakes up halfway across the country. Which, as a way to travel, is pretty cool. Still, it does make him more skeptical of the couples who swear they spend half their Loop on an extended vacation abroad. He doubts that they take a flight out every day only to wake up back where they started each morning.

He’s still not ready to deal with Jamie, so he turns his phone off and skips the bar completely. He does spend about an hour at a Red Lobster (what even _is_ DFW?) before deciding that’s probably too predictable as well.

He spends about 15 minutes flirting with Peter the masseuse before he gets ushered into the backroom. Seriously. The airport has a massage place with a backroom.

For a $100, Peter lets him stretch out on the massage table and take a nap. There is no real reason for him to be tired, when he hasn’t actually just gotten off a red-eye from Boston, but he just wants to lie here for the next three Loops and not get up.

Which is, of course, when Jamie finds him.

“I can’t believe that Peter betrayed me,” Tyler says, aggrieved.

“Should’ve paid him more,” Jamie replies.

Tyler pushes himself up onto his forearms to give Jamie a dark look. “You’re doing a terrible job of being apologetic.”

Jamie pushes a hand through his hair, and with all the gel in it, the strands settle into a disarrayed pattern and don’t move. It’s cute and charming and looks fucking ridiculous and Tyler hates it. “I just—I want to talk to you. To explain.”

“And the fact that I said I don’t want to talk to you, that I asked you to leave me alone, means nothing?”

Jamie looks stricken. “I didn’t—I thought you’d want— I didn’t want you to think I’d given up.”

Tyler pushes himself into a sitting position. “I know it’s all romcom and cute to chase after someone. Hell, I’m sure I’ve done it myself. But when I say I want some time alone, I want some fucking time alone.” Jamie bows his head, looking shamefaced. “What you did fucked me up, Benn. I’ve wanted— I’ve wanted a soulmate pretty much my entire life. I’ve looked forward to my Loop and to doing all that cute shit you hear about? With the dates and the extravagence and the whole shebang. Instead, I got three months of thinking I was in this totally alone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jamie says, and Tyler can tell he means it. It’s in the bow of his spine, the flush on his cheeks. Tyler just isn’t sure that matters right now.

“I believe you,” he says.

“Do you want me to go?” Jamie asks, subdued. When Tyler says nothing, Jamie nods jerkily. “Right. Yeah. That’s fair. Just—you’ll text? When you’re ready?” Tyler stays silent, and Jamie lets out a long breath. “Yeah. Okay.” He turns around, reaching for the door handle.

“Why did you do it?” Tyler asks. Jamie’s hand falls to his side, but he doesn’t turn back.

“It was a mistake. I know that.”

“You said that you didn’t—that you thought I would out you. That I was a terrible soulmate.”

Jamie makes a noise like he just got slammed to the boards and whips around. “I didn’t _say_ that.”

Tyler lies back on the table, staring up at the ceiling because the alternative is looking at Jamie’s sincere, open face. “I know what you meant.”

“I just—I was scared. That’s what it comes down to. It wasn’t about you—” Tyler snorts, “—not just about you, then. I mean, it was, a bit. I saw your tweets, I was worried that—”

“It was one tweet!” Tyler says, lurching upwards. “And I was talking about me! It was a shitty joke and I was definitely drunk and it shouldn’t have gone out, but it was a coming out joke about myself. I’m not a fucking _homophobe_ and I’m tired of people thinking I am.”

Jamie’s chin tilts up, defiant. “And that kid you outed?”

Tyler’s righteous indignation fades, replaced with shame. “That was a mistake. I was so scared, that he saw something and I— I panicked. I took it down, but,” he bites his lip. “I do regret it, if that means anything.”

“It does,” Jamie says, and Tyler hears him moving around. He rolls his head to see Jamie taking a seat, elbows propped on his knees. It makes Tyler feel uncomfortably like he’s on a shrink’s table. He looks back to the ceiling. “It means a lot. And once I knew you, I could tell— I didn’t think you were a bad person.”

Tyler blinks hard. It’s the stupid fluorescent lights above him, making his eyes water. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I should have. I wanted to. But, God, I had all these reasons. All these excuses. I just didn’t want it to end. I liked it. Skating with you. Going to the zoo, playing Mario Kart. And I knew that, when I said something, it would end.”

Tyler closes his eyes before they can start to water down his cheeks. Stupid lights. “Congrats,” he says. “You were right.”

Jamie may say he has reasons, that he had excuses. But in the end, it all boils down to one explanation. He hadn’t wanted Tyler to know.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Jamie says, and Tyler draws in a sharp, ragged breath. “That’s what I came to say. I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“Please go,” Tyler whispers. He’s losing the battle against tears, and he can’t stand to have Jamie see it. Jamie, who already thinks he’s immature, who had bought into all the press saying that Tyler was too emotional and couldn’t commit and wouldn’t take anything seriously. Tyler crying would only confirm it.

“I won’t come find you,” Jamie says, standing. “Just, whenever you’re ready.”

Tyler isn’t sure that he ever will be.

 

* * *

 

Brownie, a modern hero, comes to see him for the next Loop, helping him as they do an accidental food tour of the DFW terminal. He’s eaten at almost every place here by now, and he’s never been happier that his meal plan doesn’t matter.

“I think you knew,” he tells Brownie. “I don’t know how you would have, or why you wouldn’t tell me, but I think you knew.”

Brownie doesn’t have an answer for him, and Tyler hates this, hates this, _hates this._

 

* * *

 

He texts Jamie when he wakes up, _Let’s talk_.

He gets a reply almost immediately. _Sure. Where_?

After a moments contemplation, Tyler names the spot they met almost ninety times before this, outside the arrivals door.

When he gets out, his eyes go immediately to Jamie, standing where he alway does. Tyler makes his way over, feeling off balance and unsure.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Jamie replies. “I’m so glad that you wanted to—”

“You asked, what you could do? To, to fix this?”

Jamie perks up. “Yeah. Yes! What did you—do you want to go back to the zoo?”

“I want you to kiss me,” Tyler says, keeping his voice low.

He watches at the words hit Jamie, watches as first hope, pleasure, spread over his features, followed by realization, disappointment. “Oh.”

“That’s what I want,” Tyler says, forcing himself to stay strong in the fact of that look on Jamie’s face.

“I thought—I had hoped,” Jamie falters. “I thought you wanted to do the Loop dates? I wanted to, you know, take you out. Show you I mean it.”

Tyler rounds his shoulders. “You had that chance. I need to move forward. I want to talk to my friends and have them remember the next day. I want to wake up in a bed. I’m just,” he closes his eyes, “I’m so tired. Please, Jamie.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, his voice cracking. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Did you want to—what did you want to do today?”

“Like the first time,” Tyler says. “Let’s do it right.”

“I can do that,” Jamie promises, and his voice is dangerously sincere. “You had luggage, right?”

“Yeah.” Tyler bumps his hip against Jamie’s. “You remember how to get to baggage claim by now?”

“Shut up,” Jamie says, but he’s grinning.

 

* * *

 

It plays out like the first time. He shakes Jim Nill’s hand and says how excited he is to be playing for Dallas now. He signs the contract, and every stroke of the pen feels real this time, in a way it hasn’t for weeks. He’s doing this. He’s going to be a Star.

“Did you want to skate?” Jamie asks, indicating the hallway that leads to the rink. Tyler looks at him for a long moment. He does, badly. But, more than that, he wants to get back to that easy feeling between the two of them, the way it felt to make a blind pass, to do a proper celly with Jamie. How it had felt, when Jamie put his hands on Tyler’s hips and guided him through the play.

“No,” he says honestly. He doesn’t know if he can get that back, and doesn’t think he can bear to try right now.

Jamie’s face falls, and Tyler shores up his defenses, but Jamie doesn’t push.

“Okay. Did you want to,” he hesitates, “do you want to go to a hotel?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler says, broken up and honest about it. He doesn’t want to be alone right now, but he doesn’t want to be around Jamie either.

Jamie opens his mouth, then closes it again. “You’re always welcome at our apartment,” he says after a moment. “Whatever you decide, you’re welcome to come over.”

Tyler’s throat feels tight, so he just nods. He clears it twice and says “You making steak again?”

“If you want.”

“I’m only going if there’s steak,” which is a lie, but Jamie doesn’t have to know.

“Then there will be steak.”

 

* * *

 

Walking through the door to the Benn apartment feels strange, for all that he’s done it dozens of times now. The living room is empty, and Tyler has a moment of pure terror that Jordie won’t be there, that he’ll have to spend all this time alone with Jamie.

Then Jamie comes out of a room off the living room. “I thought I heard—” he stops when he sees Tyler. “Oh.”

“Tyler Seguin,” Tyler says, holding out a hand. Jordie pushes right past it and pulls Tyler into a hug, sudden enough that Tyler goes stiff with surprise.

“My brother is a dick,” Jordie says. “But I’m glad you came over anyway.”

“I, uh.” Tyler looks between the two brothers, Jordie still in his space, Jamie moved deeper into the living room. “Thanks?”

Jordie clasps him on the arm and steps back. “Come over anytime. Whether this idiot is here or not.”

“Hey!” Jamie says, but when Jordie gives him a look, he falls quiet. Presumably because there is no way to refute the claim.

“Jamie can make dinner,” Jordie says definitively. “Did you want to play a game?”

Tyler nods. “I should warn you, I am currently undefeated champion of Mario Kart.”

“He’s lying!” Jamie calls from the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Chubbs!” Jordie yells back, passing Tyler the spare remote. Tyler swaps their remotes and runs through the setup himself. Experience has shown he’s faster at it then Jordie. “Freaky,” Jordie says, when Tyler swaps the remotes back.

“Undefeated champion,” Tyler says smugly, and proceeds to kick Jordie’s ass.

 

* * *

 

After three games and no small amount of chirping, the food is done. Jamie sets the table, and Tyler is struck by how domestic this is, how easily he could fit here.

How easily he could have fit here from the beginning, if Jamie had wanted it.

The meal is stilted, awkward. Tyler has usually carried the majority of the conversation when they eat here, but he can’t muster his usual energy, and Jamie isn’t chatty at the best of times.

It falls to Jordie, and Tyler has gotten used to making casual small talk with a man he’s met over 60 times, but it’s still weird. He’s relieved when he finishes his plate, and he can stand to put it in the sink. Jamie is right behind him, and for a moment, Tyler startles. Jamie takes his plate.

“Let me,” he says, too sincere. Tyler can’t breathe.

“So I’ll just,” Jordie must make some sort of motion, but Tyler can’t look away from Jamie. “Cool, you guys aren’t listening. You’re both gross!”

“Get out, Darth,” Jamie snaps.

“Guy gets made captain and suddenly he’s Mr bossypants,” Jordie mutters, but he ducks out of the kitchen.

For a moment, Tyler and Jamie just stare at one another. Then Tyler break away, putting his back to the island, and Jamie turns to the sink.

Tyler watches him run water over the plates, even though the Benns definitely have a good enough dishwasher that he doesn’t need to prewash. “You made me a promise,” Tyler says carefully. “Back at the airport.”

Jamie’ shoulders go tense. “I did,” he says slowly, not turning around.

“Are you going to honor it?” Tyler asks.

Jamie turns picks up a brush and runs it over the plate. Killing time, since he forgot to put soap on either the plate or the brush. He puts the plate down after a second. When he turns to Tyler, his face is tight.

“You’re sure? Today was good. We could keep—”

“I’m sure. I need to—I want to move forward. To do that, we need to actually _move forward_.”

Jamie studies his face. “You’re more mature than I expected.”

Tyler flinches from it. He knows what Jamie must have thought of him, has _heard_ what Jamie thought of him, but it still hurts to have it laid out. “That bar was set pretty low,” he says. “So it’s not saying much.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Jamie steps closer, hands out. “You’re— you’re so much more than I could have imagined. In every way. I just want—”

“Jamie, please,” Tyler cuts him off. God, he’s just so tired.

“Okay.” Jamie takes another step forward. Tyler steps back reflexively, back hitting the island. Jamie stops immediately, hands coming up. “Can I?”

Tyler closes his eyes briefly, mortified. He’s acting like a blushing virgin. He tilts his head up, defiant, faking more confidence then he feels. “Just do it.”

Jamie takes another step forward, then another, until he’s boxing Tyler against the counter. And god, it’s not like Tyler forgot how big he was, how broad. How very Tyler’s type he is. But knowing it and _feeling_ it are two different things, and he’s almost overwhelmed by having to tilt his head up to look at Jamie, by Jamie’s strong arms on either side of his torso on the counter.

“Well?” Tyler demands, when Jamie just looks down at him.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and it sounds like defeat. He leans down, giving Tyler a chance to stop him, and presses a soft kiss to Tyler’s lips.

It feels like a lightning bolt, like a revelation, and Tyler is leaning into it before he can think better of it. There are so many reasons that this is a bad idea, why he shouldn’t do this. But here and now, he wants Jamie to kiss him like he fucking _means_ it. He threads one hand into Jamie’s hair and pulls Jamie’s closer. Jamie’s mouth is soft and warm, and opens willingly when Tyler runs his tongue over the seam of his lips.

Jamie groans against him, his hands falling to Tyler’s hips. He’s pressed against Tyler from thigh to shoulder, pressing him against the counter hard enough that Tyler almost feels as though he might fall back.

For a moment, it’s heat and wet and _yes_. Jamie is matching him in passion, the slick slide of their mouths together revving Tyler up until he wants to scream. Then Jamie pulls back, and Tyler can’t repress a small noise before Jamie is back, pressing small, light kisses on Tyler’s face, his lips, his cheeks, the stubble on his jaw.

It’s too tender, too delicate. Tyler lets his hands fall and pushes Jamie back.

Jamie goes willingly, but when he opens his eyes, they’re clouded with lust and hazy confusion.

“I—thanks.” Tyler says, ducking away. “That was—thanks. I’ll just. Bye.”

He was less flustered after his first kiss. Hell, his first _time_ had him less flustered then this. His heart is racing, and he can feel a flush high in his cheeks. He hesitates over calling a cab, then moves to Jordie’s door.

“Yo, older Benn!” he says, knocking loudly. “I need a ride.”

Jordie opens the door, looking somewhere between amused and irritated. “Oh, you’re done being gross now?” Tyler doesn’t know what his face is doing, but both the mirth and the annoyance fades from Jordie’s face, and he steps out into the hall. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll grab my keys.”

“Thanks,” Tyler says, wrapping his arms around himself.

Jordie ducks back into his room, and Tyler keeps his eyes fixed on the entry to the kitchen.

Jamie doesn’t come out.

Jordie comes back with his keys. “Where to?”

“Pick a hotel.”

“Sure,” Jordie says, leading the way out of the apartment. Tyler looks back over his shoulder just before he steps over the threshold. The apartment is silent. Jamie still doesn’t come out, and Tyler lets the door close behind him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Tyler wakes up the next day in the same hotel bed he’d fallen asleep in, he almost cries with sheer relief.

And then, for the first time in three months, he goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, he has to scramble his phone to confirm the date. It’s the next day, the Loop had broken, and Jamie Benn is his fucking soulmate.

He has a single missed call from his mother, and another text asking how his first day had been, and an email from the Stars with his preseason schedule.

He calls his mom back immediately. He’s missed her with an intensity that surprises him. He’s been traveling for as long as he’s been playing hockey, and he got a lot of shit for being a Mamma’s boy when he played for Biel, but the fact is he’s used to being away from his loved ones.

But there is a difference between being away and being out of communication for three months.

His mom answers the phone after two rings. “Tyler! How was the trip? How was Jim Nill? Did you meet your new captain? Have they picked a new captain yet?”

“Mom!” Tyler cuts her off, laughing. God, it’s just so good to talk to her again. To talk to her, and know that she’ll remember the conversation. “Mom, slow down.”

“Sorry, honey. How was the flight? I know you hate red-eyes.”

God, Tyler can’t even remember the flight. It feels like a hundred years ago. “Mom, I had my Loop.”

There is silence on the other side of the line, and Tyler feels like he’s holding his breath while he waits for an answer.  “That’s great, sweetie!” Jackie says. After a long beat of silence from Tyler she says “Isn’t it?”

“He didn’t want me, Mom.” His voice cracks as he says it, and Tyler feels himself flush.

“What’s not to want?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused and God, he loves his mom so much.

He has to swallow twice to say, “Apparently, there’s a list.”

Another long pause. “Did you want me to come down there?”

Tyler wants to see her, wants a hug so bad he can almost feel it, but he can imagine few things worse for the new image he’s trying to cultivate then having his mother come down immediately after he arrives in a new city. It will confirm to everyone, to Bruins and Stars alike, to Jamie fucking Benn, that he can’t handle himself. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Jackie says, sounding dubious. “Do you want to talk about him?”

Tyler gives a wet laugh. “Yeah, Mom. Yeah, I really do.”

And he does. Because, despite everything, he is still in love with Jamie fucking Benn.

 

* * *

 

After he talks to his mom, and his sisters, he takes a shower. God, he hasn’t had a proper shower in so long. He’d spent a few nights at hotels, but more often than not he’d been at the Benn apartment or the airport. He’s literally had sex that didn’t feel as good as this.

He spends the first half of the shower just soaking in the sensation, the moments of relaxation, the knowledge that he exists in linear time. And then, his thoughts drift.

He can’t stop thinking about that kiss last night. About how Jamie had been big enough to surround him completely. Tyler is no waif, has the height and muscle to prove it. Finding someone who is bigger than him, and who knows how to use it, is rare. He’s not convinced that Jamie  _ does _ know how to use it, but god, it hadn’t showed.

He lets his imagination drift, how it could have gone if neither of them had pulled back. If Tyler had left Jamie press him deeper into the counter. If Jamie hadn’t pulled back, had let Tyler pull him closer. If both of them had pushed until their hips drove together, both of them moving and striving towards the same goal—

Tyler finds himself getting hard, and he doesn’t feel too guilty about leaning into the fantasy. He wraps one hand around his cock and imagines that he’s sliding his hand into Jamie’s jeans. Jamie is so quiet most of the time, Tyler can all but picture the way he would break the kiss but not make a sound. The way he would drop his head to rest on Tyler’s shoulder to pant, overcome and desperate, his hips hitching into Tyler’s hand.

Jamie was still a gentleman though, wouldn’t let Tyler go. Jamie would reach for the button on Tyler’s jeans, but Tyler wouldn’t want to be distracted, would bat Jamie’s hands away until Jamie gave up, settling his massive hands on Tyler’s hips, grip just shy of bruising. Tyler would still be stroking him, feeling the heat of Jamie’s cock in his hand, the wet smear of precome at the head. It would be too dry, and he’d pull his hand back.

Jamie would look at him, face gone red with pleasure, would meet his eyes as Tyler licked his own hand, slowly and carefully, getting it good and wet and putting on a show for him. Then, when he slides it back down, lets his palm glide, wet and slow, over Jamie, Jamie wouldn’t be able to help himself, would lean forward to press open-mouthed kisses against Tyler’s lips.

His hips would be thrusting fully into Tyler’s grip at this point, until their shifting moved them enough that Jamie’s leg fell perfectly between Tyler’s, bringing his thigh flush with Tyler’s own arousal. Tyler, never one for silence, would moan at the feeling of it until Jamie shut him up with a kiss.

Jamie would like it though, would  _ love _ it. Would move his hands to Tyler’s ass to pull him closer, until Tyler’s hand was trapped between them and Tyler was all but riding Jamie’s thigh. They would hardly be kissing at that point, just panting against one another and Tyler stroked Jamie and thrust against his thigh until Jamie finally,  _ finally _ , made a noise, a deep groan as he came under Tyler’s touch.

The feel of come on his hand, hot and sudden, the sound of Jamie’s moan and the knowledge that  _ he _ had done that would be enough, would make Tyler come as Jamie tightened his hold on Tyler’s ass in a single, reflexive action, hitching him even closer.

Tyler tilts his head back as he comes in real time, biting back the moan that wants to spill free as he comes. He comes slowly back to himself, to the feel of the water, the heat of the steam, the sounds of the shower.

God. Even in his fantasy, he’s so easy for Jamie. Even in his own fantasy, he’d come in his pants like a desperate teenager.

He finishes the rest of his shower quickly.

 

* * *

 

It’s a different kind of relief to pull on a new pair of clothes from his suitcase. Tyler isn’t exactly a clothes horse, but he likes how he looks, and he hadn’t even realized how wearing the same outfit day after day had made him feel. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now. Regardless of the stress of the Loop, he’d at least had a vague pattern for his days. Paired with the knowledge that the day wouldn’t matter when he woke up, it had absolved him of any true decision making.

He reads through the Stars itinerary, and he has two days before the next event. He had been incredulous about doing the signing the same day he arrived, but he’s grateful for it now.

After some contemplation, he grabs for his skates. He’s a hockey player, he’s Canadian. The ice is in his veins as much as blood, and skating will always calm him down.

The hotel calls a cab for him, and he spends most of the drive over texting various people to get Crosby’s phone number. It says a lot about professional hockey that it’s actually harder to get the number than it was to get Crosby’s home address. He finally ends up  with the number and shoots of a text to Crosby -  _ Just got out of Loop- u were big help. Thx! U said to mention we talked so here u go! Can call whenever if u want.  _ He adds the last after a moment's consideration because the rumor is that Crosby hates texting and is also an 87 year old grandma. Tyler is considerate like that.

The bored receptionist - Lizzie, works just short of full time, is going through some shit with her boyfriend “but it’s just a hard time for him right now, you know?”— lets him in.

He can hear the sound of skates on the ice as he heads to the bench to lace up his skates, ducking his head to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

It honestly hadn’t occurred to him that there might be someone else here, when it had been empty every other time he’d been here, but Tyler is a big boy. He can share a whole rink with someone, especially since he didn’t come to do fancy tricks.

Still, he turns his snapback around to cover his face after he’s laced up his skates. He’s far from recognizable in Dallas, but the chances are better than average on ice.

He comes to a full stop at the boards when he sees that the other skater is Jamie Fucking Benn.

Jamie Fucking Benn, who comes to an ice-spraying stop when he sees Tyler at the entryway.

For a moment, they just stare at one another. Tyler opens his mouth, and closes it again.

“Um.”

“I didn’t follow you here!” Jamie blurts out. Tyler stares at him.

“Yeah? I know.”

“Oh.” Jamie looks utterly, charmingly confused. Asshole. “How did you know?”

Tyler steps out onto the ice, and he has to be imagining the almost electric feeling being on the same ice as Jamie, as though a current travels from Jamie all the way up through Tyler’s blades. “Because you were here before me?”

Jamie ducks his head, ears going distinctly red. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Tyler moves closer. “How do you know I didn’t follow you here?” Tyler asks.

“Did you?”

“What would you do if I did?” Tyler asks. It’s only when he finds himself looking up at Jamie, looking up through his  _ fucking eyelashes _ that he realizes how close he’s gotten. How he’s moved out of the realm of harmless chirping and directly into outright flirtation.

He almost trips backwards, as though he doesn’t know how to skate. As though he isn’t a  _ professional skater,  _ jesus christ.

“I wasn’t following you,” he throws down before Jamie can reply to the first comment. “I just wanted to skate.”

Jamie is still standing there, watching him. “I can go, if you want?” He sounds like he means it, damn him. Tyler doesn’t want him to be  _ polite  _ and  _ reasonable. _ He wants him to be a fucking asshole. He wants to hate him, wants to paper over the ache with anger.

“It’s a big rink,” he says, and pushes away to do figure eights on the other side of the ice. He can’t shut out his awareness though, that intangible thing that tells him where Jamie is on the ice, a thread pulling at his stomach until he wants to throw up.

Frustrated, he speeds up, trying to get his mind to shut up. He races to the boards, taps them with one hand, then races to the other side. Back, forth. Back, forth. He does it until he loses count, until his breath comes fast in his chest and his shirt sticks to his chest with sweat. He can’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears, can’t see anything but the boards as they approach. Can’t feel anything but the burn in his legs, the solid feel of the wood under his palm.

He only slows when he starts to think he’ll fall over, his muscles buzzing, his head tingling with released pressure. He puts both hands on the boards and bends his head, breathing hard.

“Tyler?”

He almost jumps out of his fucking skates at the soft voice behind him. Jamie is standing a safe distance away, his hand outstretched like he wants to move closer.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Tyler says, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Tyler looks back at his own hands, white knuckled on the boards. “It’s always been empty here.”

He hears movement, the shh-shh of skates on ice. Out of his peripheries, he sees Jamie lean against the boards, facing out towards the ice. Not close enough to touch, just solidly  _ there. _

“I came by here, once,” Jamie says. “During one of the Loops. I just wanted to skate without doing the whole, press thing. You hadn’t come out at the airport, so I figured you had just bailed. But when I came here, you were on the ice.”

Tyler tries to think back, to place when that might have been. There hadn’t been too many times that he’d bailed on Jamie, and even fewer when he’d used that time to actually leave the airport.

“Was this after Brownie came to visit?”

Jamie hesitates, then nods, short and sharp.

“And you couldn’t say anything to me, because then you would be breaking your usual pattern and I would figure it out.”

Another nod. “I loved watching you skate though,” Jamie admits. “Even when you’re not playing hockey. I can’t look away.”

“I didn’t want to see your face.” He sees Jamie flinch from the corner of his eyes. Good. He hopes it fucking hurts. “You’d been acting so weird around Brownie, and I knew I was in love with you by then and-” Jamie makes a sharp noise, and Tyler has to suck in a panicked breath, forcing out the rest of his words. “It was just hard. I needed a break.”

“You were in love with me?” Jamie asks, and his voice sounds as broken up as Tyler feels right now.

Tyler turns around, putting his back to the boards, looking out over the ice. “I didn’t try to hide it. I didn’t think I had to.”

“I,” Jamie starts, then stops. He moves closer, close enough that Tyler can feel his heat all along his side. “You said were. You  _ were _ in love with me.” He stops again, and Tyler closes his eyes. Humiliations burns through him. He’s not sure which thought is worse. That he’d been obvious, throwing himself at an uninterested man, or that he’d been so thoroughly beyond consideration that it hadn’t even registered. “Did you mean—is it— do you still…” he trails off like he can’t say the words aloud, and Tyler hears the silence where the words should be like a blow.

Tyler can’t even look at him. All the tension released during his sprints is back, locking up his muscles. The truth is too raw, too revealing. The truth is that he thinks he will always love Jamie. The truth is that if he didn’t love him, it wouldn’t hurt this fucking much.

The truth is, he isn’t ready to say anything like that to Jamie.

“Can’t we just be friends?” he asks, voice soft, plaintive. It scrapes his throat on the way out anyway. He doesn’t want to be  _ friends.  _ He wants Jamie to have told him the truth on Day One. He wants to lean his head on Jamie’s shoulder and curl into him. Wants Jamie to kiss him again, and again, and again.

Jamie’s shoulders are slumped with relief when Tyler looks at him, and his voice is hoarse when he says “Yeah. We can be friends.”

* * *

 

 

Tyler doesn’t turn his phone back on until he gets back to the hotel and takes another long, luxurious shower. He keeps his hands to himself this time though. Not even the remembered memory of Jamie’s flushed face, the breadth of him in a sweat soaked shirt, can ease the sickening feeling that meeting had left.

Jamie had said he loved Tyler during the Loops, but Tyler should know better by now. Saying I love you during an apology is like saying it during a blowjob. It doesn’t count. Jamie wants to be friends, just friends. Jamie, who had never wanted Tyler for a soulmate, wants to be friends.

He hadn’t realized, until Jamie had agreed with such relief, how much he wanted Jamie to have loved him.

When he turns his phone back on, he has a dinner invitation from Jordie, three texts from his sister and, Jesus, four missed calls from Crosby. And a text which just reads  _ Call me. _

After a moment’s consideration, Tyler elects to put on boxers before picking up the phone. It barely rings twice before Crosby picks up, because Crosby has a verifiable lack of chill.

“Hey, what’s up!”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Hello to you too, Crosby. Always a pleasure.”

“What do you know.”

Tyler rolls his eyes, but only because Crosby can’t see him. “I’m not calling to blackmail you, jesus. You were a bro during my Loop, that’s all.”

A long pause. “That’s all?”

“Cross my heart, dude. I came by when I was having issues, cause of, you know, your whole deal. Thought maybe you could help.”

Crosby makes a low, considering noise. “Did I? Help?”

Tyler clicks his teeth together. “As much as you could.”

“Oh. Do you—is there something I can help with now?”

Crosby is either a great Canadian or a great captain, and Tyler isn’t sure how to handle it, faced with his awkward sincerity. “Nah. It’s just shit, you know.”

Crosby gives a low laugh. “Yeah, actually. It really can be.”

“Worked out for you though. You and Malkin are living together, all cute and shit.” The relationship between Crosby and Malkin is almost an open-secret in the league, but they’re always left enough plausible deniability for the press to pretend its a platonic bond. Tyler can’t even say for sure that it didn’t start out that way.

“I, uh, I told you that?”

Tyler winces. “Well, I did gatecrash your house. I won’t tell anyone, though. Pinky promise.”

“You can’t pinky promise over the phone.” Crosby sounds exasperated, which is at least better then the confused vulnerability.

“Not with that attitude you can’t,” Tyler says, stretching out on his hotel bed.

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and Loop dates,” Crosby says after a moment. “You have to put in the work.”

“I don’t even know if he wants to.” It’s as much as he can offer, more than a pinky promise, letting the pronoun hang in the air between them. Crosby draws in a breath of recognition.

“Well, I’m no expert, but don’t you think that’s something you should find out?”

“Fuck off,” Tyler snaps. He doesn’t know what the hell Jamie wants. Jamie, who had said he loved Tyler, who had spent three months keeping secrets, who had shaken his hand on that first day and decided that Tyler wasn’t worth it. Jamie, who wants to be friends.

“Hey, you’re the one who came to me. Which, actually. Why  _ did  _ you come to me?”

Tyler hesitates, wrestling with the truth. “I needed to know if it—if it was a Captain thing. Or a me thing.”

“A Captain—oh shit. Really?”

“Thanks for that, Crosby,” Tyler huffs. “Your support means everything to me.”

“Sorry, I just. Didn’t you  _ just _ get traded?”

“Really, you’re filling me with like, little bubbles of joy.”

Crosby doesn’t take the hint. “Who even is—don’t we have your captain?”

“Former Captain,” Tyler says, because he’s never skated for Morrow, and he never will. Jamie is his Captain now. “You can find out when we announce like everyone else.” Would it be crossing a line to hang up on one of the world’s greatest players? Maybe. But it definitely wouldn’t be crossing a line to hang up on a fellow hockey player who’s a bit of a dick.

“Sorry. Sorry. It just. Wow.”

“Yep.”

A silence falls, where Crosby doesn’t say anything and Tyler still doesn’t hang up.

Then Crosby clears his throat. “Thanks for letting me know. About your Loop. You could have just… and I’d never have known. It was really cool of you.”

“I’m a cool dude,” Tyler says. No one ever believes him when he says that

“You’re alright,” Crosby replies, but he’s laughing.

Tyler hangs up on him. He has absolutely no regrets.

Despite Crosby’s suggestion, which is probably a good one, Tyler doesn’t talk to Jamie. Instead, he lets himself settle into his hotel room, unpacks his two suitcases into the dresser, and doesn’t wonder if the empty apartment in Jamie’s building is still free.

The hot days of summer fall away, blending into one another almost as seamlessly as the Loop had. He’d arrived in Dallas so early to do Press, to politely dodge questions about his trade and smile blandly while the press makes side insinuations.

He talks about how he thinks this will be a great opportunity for him, how he misses Boston but there are no hard feelings, how he thinks the Stars are real contenders this year until his teeth ache. He’s not sure which parts are a lie and which are the truth anymore, all of it muddled and gray.

When he got off the plane that first day, he’d carried a hard lump of anger— at himself, at Boston, at the world in general— but it’s gone now. But Dallas doesn’t feel like as much of an opportunity as it had during the Loops themselves. The hope he’d felt then is tangled with the aching disappointment he feels now, and everything is just—

“And, of course, I’ve watched him skate,” a portion of Jamie’s interview catches Tyler’s attention, and he can’t help the way he looks over. Jamie looks awkward, he always does in front of the cameras, but sincere. “He’s amazing. I think he’s going to be a real asset to the Stars, and I can’t wait to play with him.”

Tyler sucks in a breath, because Jamie sounds just as sincere now, just as intense, as when he’d faced Tyler on that chipped ice to say he liked how Tyler skated. Jamie looks up at exactly the wrong moment, their eyes meet. Hold.

Then a reporter calls Jamie’s attention away, and Tyler is able to leave the scrum now that his scheduled interviews are over. He feels like his whole skin is buzzing.

 

* * *

 

A week in, and Tyler gets a text inviting him to a Mario Kart rematch from Jordie. He stares at it, then at the NCIS marathon he’s been watching for the past three days. He thinks about asking whether Jamie will be there, but he’s not in high school. He’s not going to monitor Jamie’s whereabouts to avoid him, and he’s not going to pass Jamie a note after practice saying ‘Do you like me, check yes or no.’

_ Get ready to lose _ he replies, and grabs his shoes.

 

* * *

 

Tyler hesitates outside the door to the Benn apartment, abruptly aware that this the first time since the Loop broke that he’s been here. This had been one of the few places he’d felt safe during the Loop, a single constant in an unfamiliar city of unfamiliar faces. He doesn’t like feeling like that has been taken from him.

But then, it was never something he had a claim on to begin with. Jamie hadn’t taken anything from him, because Tyler hadn’t  _ had _ anything.

He knocks.

Jordie, thank god, opens the door. “Hey Segs!”

Tyler finds himself grinning back, moved by Jordie’s enthusiasm. “Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks, pushing past Jordie into the apartment and dropping down onto the couch. When he looks back up at Jordie, he sees him frozen in the doorway, and Tyler’s grin fades. “I mean, um.” He trails off, unsure.

Jordie shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He drops down next to Tyler, the TV already configured. “I just keep forgetting that you’ve like, been here. Like a lot.”

Tyler nods, but doesn’t answer, using the distraction of picking the characters to get away with it. He picks Mario, because he always does, and Jordie picks Bowser, as  _ he  _ always does.

The good thing about Mario Kart is that it does not invite conversation, and even total strangers fall easily into chirping. It’s easier for Tyler to forget that he’s not supposed to know Jordie, and for Jordie to forget that they’re technically strangers.

Tyler is just starting to relax, confidence born by a perfectly whipped green shell, when the door opens. Specifically, it opens just when Tyler yells “Suck it, Benn!” and takes first place, just as he crosses the finish line.

“Oh, fuck you too, you fucking asshole,” Jordie retorts. The shell had dropped him all the way back to fifth, but Tyler is too busy staring at Jamie. Jamie, who is staring back, eyes and mouth wide.

“Uh, Segs?” Jordie nudges him, and Tyler realizes that the final round has started, and he’s been left at the starting line. Jordie, clearly used to comings and goings in the apartment, hasn’t even noticed his brother’s arrival.

Tyler lurches his car into gear, but he can’t stop being hyper-aware of Jamie, of his location in the apartment. Only getting a star early, by sheer virtue of being so far behind, prevents him from careening off a cliff when Jamie comes up behind him. Jordie is yelling, his usual mix of shouting at the computers players and telling Tyler to eat his dust, but Tyler can’t seem to muster the same enthusiasm.

He gets a blue shell by sheer chance, still solidly in last place, and he doesn’t even check who’s in first before he fires it. It was, apparently, Jordie, who curses loudly and aims a kick at Tyler’s leg.

The round ends with Jordie in second and Tyler squeezing his way into fourth.

“Rematch?” Jordie offers. Tyler hesitates.

“I’ll play the winner,” Jamie says, leaning his arms on the back of the couch. Jordie jumps about a foot in the air, which is gratifying as fuck, especially since it pulls Tyler’s attention away from the strong flex of Jamie’s forearms.

“No, it’s—I should go.” Tyler pushes himself to his feet. “Thanks for having me.”

“You don’t have to,” Jamie says. “You’re welcome here. Anytime.”

Tyler isn’t sure how true that is, has pushed the boundaries of his own welcome more than once, but he nods anyway. “Thanks, man. I just have to-” he searches for an excuse, and draws a total blank. He doesn’t really  _ do _ anything, “go,” he finishes lamely.

“Yeah, of course.” Jamie nods, a touch too fast. “You’re busy.”

Tyler really isn’t.

He tosses another thanks to Jordie over his shoulder, and heads back to his empty hotel room.

 

* * *

 

 

Quietly, and without commentary, Tyler buys the apartment below Jamie. He’s never been good at holding a grudge, and almost two weeks of Jamie being quiet and earnest and apologetic have already melted the worst of his anger.

The hurt lingers longer, paired with the bone deep ache at having a soulmate who doesn’t want him, but Tyler still wants to be around Jamie, still wants to be close to him. He’s started dropping by the Benn apartment every other day, mostly hanging with Jordie, but he doesn’t expect that pattern to hold.

Jordie is a good bro, and he never leaves Tyler alone with Jamie, for which Tyler is imminently grateful. He doesn’t know  _ what _ Jordie makes of the whole situation, but he never mentions it, doesn’t give any sign that his brother is anything more to Tyler than Team Captain.

Tyler hasn’t told either of the Benn brothers about the apartment, doesn’t even know if they’ve noticed that the place is no longer on the market. Tyler makes enough to stay in a hotel for a little longer, and he isn’t ready for the change that proximity will bring. It would be impossible to move in without either of them noticing, so he just… doesn’t.

He hasn’t found a good enough reason just yet.

 

* * *

 

He ends up going back to the Benn apartment again, lured by the promise of steak and not eating hotel food. The thought of the empty apartment, two floors down and three doors over with his name on the lease, niggles at him. He can’t deny the appeal of carpooling to practice, of squabbling with Jamie over the radio, of fighting Jordie for shotgun. Its appeal is part of the reason he’s still hesitant.

He wants, badly, to fall into this. To lean into Jamie’s side on the couch or crowd him up against the fridge to steal a kiss or just, horrifyingly, to play hockey with him until he fucking dies. But he can’t shake the memory of Jamie listing out his character flaws, laying every one of Tyler’s mistakes on the floor between them, and finding Tyler wanting.

Three months of the Loop, almost another of preseason, and Jamie hasn’t given any indication that forever is something that he wants. Three months had been enough to convince him that Tyler wasn’t some alcoholic homophobic monster, but anything else, the rest of the everything that Tyler wants, is missing. The most he’d said since then was that he found Tyler attractive, and long experience has proved there is a big distance between attraction and love.

Tyler catches Jamie looking at him sometimes, attuned as he is to everything Jamie does. He sees the way Jamie’s eyes will linger on Tyler’s tattoos, on the his abs, his mouth. It doesn’t mean anything. Tyler is hot and he knows it. He’s already shown his cards, it’s up to Jamie if he wants to raise the stakes.

(He’s terrified of the day Jamie will come to him, as hesitant and sincere as he always is, and propose that they help one another out— just between us. We’re soulmates, it’s more convenient, come on Tyler— and Tyler won’t be able to say no.)

Fate, in the form of Brownie, forces his hand about the apartment just before training camp starts. On Tuesday, Brownie shows up with three hours warning and Marshall in the back of his car.

“You don’t have a place yet?” Brownie demands, after his exuberant reunion with Tyler, and after Tyler’s exuberant reunion with Marshall. “It’s been over a month!” His skepticism is warranted. Tyler, despite all evidence to the contrary, likes to put down roots. He likes owning a place and filling it with his stuff and his friends and his family. He likes to have a home to come back to, over a hotel room with a mini-fridge, even if it does come pre-stocked with tequila.

“Well,” Tyler dithers. He hasn’t gotten around to telling Jamie—to telling anyone about the apartment. He looks from Brownie, disapproving and concerned, to Marshall, wagging his tail and running back and forth, inviting Tyler to play. He can’t let Marshall stay in a hotel.

“I figured you’d already moved in. I only brought him because you’d been bitching about what a pain it was to buy a place, instead of signing a lease.”

“I like to paint the walls,” Tyler replies, because the default white of a rented apartment make him feel like he’s been put into a hospital.

“So?” Brownie, somehow, manages to look just like Tyler’s mother when he makes that face, and it’s horrifying.

Tyler looks once more to Marshall’s stupid smiling doggy face. “Let me make a call.”

 

* * *

 

The apartment has been sitting empty since Tyler bought it, and it looks as untouched now as it had then. As untouched as it had been during his Loop, when he toured it that first time with Michelle. Brownie’s face, when Tyler swings the door open to let him and Marshall through, is distinctly unimpressed.

Marshall, always there to have a bros back, is delighted. As soon as the door closes and Tyler releases his leash, he takes off. It’s a two bedroom apartment, almost a mirror to Jamie’s. Tyler had planned to make the second room into a guest room for visitors.

“No furniture?”

Tyler shrugs. “No need.”

“Segs,” Brownie says carefully.

“Lay off.”

He gives Brownie the grand tour, which takes less than two minutes, even if Brownie does seem appropriately impressed by the walk in shower.

“Are you going to tell me why it took you so long to move into this fantastic apartment?”

Tyler wonders if he can push it off even further but his luck doesn’t extend that far. He bends to the inevitable and calls Marshall over. The leash has gotten all tangled around his legs, so Tyler wastes a few more minutes meticulously untangling it while Brownie looks on impatiently. Marshall licks Tyler’s face enthusiastically, because he is the best boy.

“Come on,” Tyler says, bypassing the elevator to take the stairs.

“Uh. Okay.”

Brownie, sensing his tension, follows him up the stairs without commentary, all the way up three floors and out into the hall until Tyler gets to the Benn apartment and gives a quick shave and a haircut tap on the door.

Jamie answers after a moment, face flushed attractively and shirt sticking to him. He look surprised to see Tyler, and then even more surprised to be immediately hit by 60-something pounds of chocolate lab.

“Jamie, Brownie. Brownie, Jamie.” Marshall takes another leap at Jamie, presumably trying to get Jamie’s face within licking distance, and Tyler adds “This is Marshall.”

He doesn’t look at Brownie, but he can feel the judgmental look. Tyler busies himself with tugging Marshall away, crouching down next to him to avoid looking at anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” Brownie says, and Tyler knows him well enough to hear the insincerity, but he doubts Jamie does.

“You too,”  and it’s a strange reversal of the meeting that Tyler remembers. Gone is Jamie’s stiff displeasure, his clear dislike of Brownie that had made that day so awkward. Instead, when Tyler glances up, he sees that it’s Brownie’s face set in severe lines. He can take a pretty educated guess at what Brownie’s deal is, but he has no idea where to start with Jamie.

Then Jamie crouches down next to Tyler and Marshall and holds out his hand for Marshall to sniff. A polite courtesy, but an unnecessary one. As soon as Jamie gets within reach, Marshall bathes him in doggy kisses until Jamie laughs and bats him away.

Tyler can feel his pulse in his ears, feel the heavy rush of his heart when he looks at Jamie, his laugh, the easy way he handles Marshall, and it’s almost overwhelming.

Brownie clears his throat. “Seggy had a question for you.”

“Oh?” Jamie asks, and with both of them by Marshall, their faces are so close.

Tyler lurches to his feet. “Yeah. Are you and Jordie free today?”

Jamie gets to his own feet slowly, looking between him and Brownie. “We could be.”

“Cool. Cool. So, it’s not a big deal, don’t like, read into it—” Brownie makes a rude noise and Tyler pushes on “—but I got a new place and it would be great if you could help me move in. Like, today.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jamie reaches out and awkwardly taps Tyler’s shoulder, like he was going to grab it or maybe punch it and couldn’t commit to either choice. “What are teammates for?”

Brownie makes another rude noise and Tyler stands on his foot, using Marshall’s bulk to hide the move. Asshole.

“We should maybe go to Ikea too?” Tyler adds. “I don’t actually have literally any furniture.”

Jamie frowns. “You know you’re a professional hockey player, right? You don’t have to shop at Ikea.”

Tyler makes a point at looking over Jamie’s shoulder to the inside of the Benn apartment, a disastrous mismatch of taste and style, and raising his eyebrows. Jamie ignores him, just as pointedly, and calls back into the apartment for Jordie.

“Sounds like fun.” Jordie calls back. “Where are you moving to?”

Tyler feels his ears go hot, and he shoots a glance at Brownie, who makes a face that indicates he will be of absolutely no help whatsoever.

“Well,” Tyler starts. “I actually. Again, it’s not like, a thing. But I did end up getting the apartment downstairs.”

Jamie and Jordie exchange a look, and Jamie clears his throat, stepping back from the door and turning away. “Yeah, of course. I know it’s not—I get it.” He jerks his thumb towards his own room. “I just—I need to go change. You caught me on the way back from a run.”

Tyler watches him go, baffled. He looks to Brownie, who shrugs. He looks to Jordie, who rolls his eyes like he’s inviting Tyler in on the joke. Tyler feels more like the punchline.

“Pretty sure Ikea won’t let your boy in,” Jordie says after a moment, and Tyler has a crazy moment where he thinks Jordie means  _ Jamie _ , and the possessive is already making his face flush when he realizes that Jordie means Marshall.

“Oh. Um.”

“I can watch him,” Brownie offers.

“No!” Tyler blurts out before he can stop himself, because he can too easily imagine furniture shopping with Jamie, imagine it as buying a place for the two of them, filling it with things they both like. “I mean. You already came this far.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordie says. “He can stay here, can’t you buddy.” The last is directed at Marshall’s as Jordie scratches at his ears. “I’ll stay here with him, and you can text me when you get back.”

“Uh.” Tyler looks to the door that Jamie had disappeared behind. He doesn’t have a good excuse, and he does want the help. “Sure?”

“That’s the spirit!”

Tyler flips him the bird.

 

* * *

 

It’s exactly as bad as Tyler had feared. Thank god for Brownie, who helps out when Tyler starts to feel overwhelmed. Jamie considers each piece of furniture as though it’s costing Tyler his last dollar, carefully measuring them and asking how Tyler plans to layout the apartment.

Since Tyler had been diligently avoiding those exact thoughts, he doesn’t have a good answer. It should be awful, hearing Jamie layout the benefits of a couch facing the window versus a wall, but he likes the thought that Jamie puts into the, the care for an apartment that isn’t even his.

“Chubbs, you’re overthinking it. There is only one couch factor that matters,” he says, after watching Jamie dither over a gray sectional or a black fold-out. He grabs Jamie’s wrist and pulls him down, so that they’re both sitting on the gray one. “Comfy?”

The way Tyler had pulled him settles them too close on the couch, Jamie’s side pressed all along his own. Jamie doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even seem to notice as he leans back. “Hm.”

“It’s not rocket science, dude.” Tyler leans back next to him. “Comfy or no?”

Jamie settles himself further into the couch, then stretches an arm over the back, almost around Tyler’s shoulders. “It’s your couch. What do you think?”

Tyler thinks that Jamie’s face is too close. The bustling noises of IKEA fade around them, the warmth of Jamie’s body throwing heat all along Tyler’s side.

“It’s good,” Tyler says softly.

“Yeah?”

Tyler swallows “Yeah.”

Jamie’s eyes dart, unmistakably, to his lips. “I mean, if you want,” he trails off, leaning in and——

“We should try the other one!” Tyler exclaims, jumping to his feet. “We have to try both.” He gives Brownie a filthy look as he moves, and Brownie just smirks at him. What a fucking dick.

Tyler doesn’t make room for Jamie on the black one, stretching out with his back against one arm and his feet towards the other end. There is only barely enough room to get his feet on it, no room for a second person. He looks back to Jamie, looking dazed on the sectional. “Thoughts?”

Jamie doesn’t meet his eyes. “You should—you should always get what you want, Ty.”

Which, as answers go, is useless.

 

* * *

 

 

They get the sectional. They also get a dresser, two bookshelves, a mattress and two bed frames. The beds had been an entirely new level of terrible, watching Jamie spread himself out on them, occasionally indicating that Tyler should join him. Tyler never does, he’s not that stupid.

Jamie takes careful notes on the aisle location for each final choice, and it takes less time to get everything together then it ever has before, hardly any time before they’re back at the apartment.

Between the four of them, they get most of the furniture set up— Tyler could care less about the bookshelves and is getting tired of screwing things in— and laid out how Tyler wants it. The bed with the mattress goes in the guest room, for use until Tyler can get a comfier one for his own room. The sight of Jamie assembling his bed, a furrow in his brow as he carefully sets everything up, quiet and meticulous, will linger.

 

* * *

 

 

Training camp kicks off with summer heat still heavy in air. Which is, Tyler reasons, the primary reason why it always feels so good when he steps through the doors to the arena, the air conditioning and smell of ice hitting him like a wave.  It has nothing to do with the memory of the lights dim, him and Jamie all but alone on the ice, Jamie’s hands steady on his hips.

It’s fantastic just to be on the same ice with other people, an entire summer and three months between him and the last game of hockey he played. Whether it’s the energy of a new team— new not just to him but to almost everyone on the ice, with the entire Stars franchise shaken up, in new sweaters and new colors and a record breaking trade to their name— or the relief of a truly terrible summer being over, everything clicks from the first second on the ice.

It’s still awkward between him and Jamie off the ice, but they can’t hide their on-ice chemistry, and it’s clear from the first day that they’re going to be put on the same line.

“You good?”

“Hm?” Tyler looks over when Jamie drops down next to him, takes the gatorade that Jamie passes him. It’s blue, which is his favorite.

“With, you know, being linemates.”

“Worried you’ll get stuck with me?” Tyler chirps, but it falls flat.

“Never,” Jamie says, and Tyler has to take a giant gulp of his gatorade or risk doing something mortifying. Like swoon. When he doesn’t reply, Jamie’s hands curl and uncurl on his own knees, “it’s just. With everything. It’s— will you be good?”

“It’s hockey,” Tyler says, because it is. He and Jamie are— whatever they are— but hockey is hockey. Hockey doesn’t care what your situation is. Good or bad, you leave it all on the ice. “Are you good?” he asks, when Jamie doesn’t look reassured. His stomach drops with the question. If Jamie was asking to get some excuse to change lines, if he thinks Tyler won’t be able to stay professional—

Jamie shrugs. “I’ll manage.” Which is. Not what Tyler wanted to hear.

“Right,” he mutters, and takes another sip of gatorade.

The thing is, Tyler is good at hockey. He might be a disaster at everything else, might have ruined Boston, and ruined his reputation, and ruined his soulbond, but he hasn’t ruined his hockey. Tyler has always managed to live down to everyone’s expectations, but not this time.

He’s good at hockey, and he’s going to be the best fucking linemate that Jamie Benn has ever had.

And the thing is—he thinks he really might be. He and Jamie are fucking  _ fantastic _ together.

They make a good showing of it in the preseason, and Tyler feels good, feels  _ great _ . It’s not Bruins hockey, but it’s not what he had feared. He would never admit it to Jamie or to any of the others on the team, but he’d been worried that coming from a Stanley Cup winning team, joining a team that hadn’t even made the playoffs in half a decade would be like going back to juniors.

Tyler is good and he knows it, but so is Jamie. So are Pevs and other beneficiaries of the trade, and so are the members of the Dallas old guard. Tyler works hard in every practice, and the team works hard around him, and he thinks back to the promises he and Jamie had made— the ones he thought Jamie would forget. They are going to prove everyone wrong.

Two games in, and Jamie is officially named Captain, and no one is surprised. Still, looking at him in front of the press and the other players, red-faced and pleased and trying not to show it, Tyler feels so proud of Jamie he wants to scream with it.

He settles for thumping a fist on Jamie’s chest, doesn’t let himself linger on the touch. He needs— he needs Jamie to make the next move, when every move so far has been Tyler’s. He can’t keep laying himself bare, flaying himself open with no hope of reprisal.

“Proud of you, bud,” he says, which doesn’t do justice to the raging inferno inside of him.

Jamie grins at him, losing whatever internal battle had been keeping the expression back. “Thanks.” He looks like he could take a victory lap, and Tyler finds that he desperately wants Jamie to. Jamie, who hides his successes and admits to his failures, who acts like things like the captaincy have fallen upon him by chance.

“Dinner, later?” Tyler asks. They still haven’t had a moment for just the two of them, Jordie a solid protective presence. But as Tyler’s own hurt and anger fades, he wants to get back to the close, intimate moments of the Loop, the shared space between them.

“Sure,” Jamie says, and Tyler pushes away the sudden apprehension he feels because Jamie— Jamie doesn’t look thrilled, looks uncomfortable and unsure, but Tyler has to be imagining it and— “I’ll see when Jordie is free.”

Tyler doesn’t let his smile drop. He’s good at that. “Yeah. Of course.”

Stupid. He needs to stop being so fucking stupid.

 

* * *

 

 

As much as Tyler craves the quiet intimacy of the Loops, he is learning more about Jamie in the middle of a season then he had in the entire three months of the Loop. There is Jamie as he is around Tyler, and there is Jamie as he is around Jordie, and there is Jamie as he is around the team, as Captain, in front of the press. Infinite facets of Jamie, unfolding away from him.

Tyler had loved Jamie in the Loop, but he hadn’t  _ understood _ him. He still doesn’t, and probably never will, not when they’re so different. Tyler craves intimacy, shows affection with physical touch and makes a joke about everything.

Jamie likes touch well enough, will accept an arm around his shoulder from a teammate, will wrestle with Jordie over the remote, will let Tyler tuck his feet under Jamie’s thigh or press up against his side, but he doesn’t initiate.

Jamie isn’t serious, not exactly. He’s quick to laughter, quick to smile. But he’s also quiet, in a way that Tyler will never be. He keeps his thoughts to himself, when Tyler lets them spill out, messy and overwhelming.

A lot of what Tyler had attributed as shyness during the Loop is just  _ Jamie _ , just how he is. Despite years of evidence to the contrary, some part of Tyler still expects people to interact with the world the same way he does, and that any difference on a first meeting is a product of social hesitation.

“Is he always like that?” he asks Jordie, indicating Jamie with his beer bottle as Jamie— the only word is  _ withstands _ the flirtations of a very pretty blonde girl.

“Usually he’s worse,” Jordie says, laughing. “I’ll probably go rescue him in a few minutes.”

“She’s hot.” Tyler doesn’t even know what he means by that, what answer he wants. Jordie just gives him an inscrutable look before pushing himself out of the booth. Tyler watches, trying to pretend that he’s not watching, as Jordie goes up and says something to Jamie. Jamie looks over at Tyler, who has to look away quickly.

The thing is, it’s not an isolated experience. He can hardly blame the girls, and even the occasional guy, who hit on Jamie. But no matter the gender or the situation, Jamie reacts with the same awkward discomfort.

In those early Loops, Tyler had been relentless in hitting on Jamie, moving forward under the assumption that Jamie wouldn’t remember, and enjoying the way he flushed and squirmed. Tyler likes to flirt, but he’d undeniably gone harder on Jamie then he usually did, or was probably polite.

It’s no wonder, after all the bad press that followed Tyler from Boston, that Jamie had been wary at first. Jamie, Tyler has learned, doesn’t like to jump headfirst into anything. Tyler jumps headfirst into  _ everything _ .

Tyler can’t say how he would have reacted if Jamie had told him right away, but he can guess what Jamie might have thought. Jamie, confronted with Tyler as he had been, overbearing and angry and not too happy to be in Dallas to begin with. Ready to hate the city and be disappointed by a team that hadn’t made the playoffs in half a decade.

He’s still— it still bothers him. If Jamie had just  _ told _ him— but Jamie, probably scared in his own way, overwhelmed by Tyler’s over the top flirtation and biased be the media, couldn’t have known that. Tyler doesn’t like it, but he gets it. He gets it more now than he had when Jamie had told him, and gets it more every day.

What he can’t wrap his head around his how Jamie could have changed his mind and still said nothing. How Jamie could have loved him, and kept living the lie. Which leaves only one possibility. Jamie doesn’t love him, never fully changed his opinion.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Jordie chirps, nudging Jamie into the booth as they get within earshot.

They’re at a bar after an afternoon-into-evening practice, taking up a full booth at all times as they trade off who gets drinks and people duck in and out of the pool area. Tyler isn’t great at pool, but he’s spend too much time in bars to be bad at it. He always cleans up when he hustles anyway, because he gets paradoxically better the more he drinks.

“Did Jordie save you from the big bad sorority girl?” Tyler asks.

Jamie shoves him. “Shut up. I just wanted a drink.” In fact, he has two. Before Tyler can comment on that, Jamie slides the other one over to him. Tyler looks up, surprised and touched.

“Thanks, man.”

Jamie gives him a small smile. The eye contact holds for a beat too long before Val bumps into Jamie trying to get in the booth on the other side.

Between the Benn brothers, Val, Pevs and the others, Tyler is starting to feel a bit cramped.

“Bet I can beat you at pool,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Jamie. One thing that he’d known in the Loop and which hasn’t changed at all— Jamie is a competitive asshole.

“Bet you can’t,” Jamie says. “That’s your fourth beer,” he hold up his own, “I’ve barely started my second.”

Tyler grins at him, warm with affection and alcohol. “We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

 

It occurs to Tyler, somewhere between Jamie’s third declined invitation and Jamie’s fourth time spending a team bar trip talking to Tyler, that communication might be in order.

Which sucks.

In Tyler’s experience, problems between friends either quietly resolve themselves, or the friendship quietly ends, and it’s worked for him so far. Communication wouldn’t have solved his problems in Boston, and it’s certainly never helped in any of the relationships he’s been in.

But Jamie isn’t a just a friend, and he isn’t some extended hook-up Tyler couldn’t care less about. He’s Tyler’s teammate, his captain. He’s  _ Jamie,  _ and Tyler wants him in his life no matter what form it takes.

So. Communication.

He’s been able to put together, with the extremely reluctant help of Jordie, that Jamie isn’t mad at Tyler, or even reluctant to be around him, just wary of the two of them being alone. Jordie had refused to make any guesses why, but Tyler can make a few of his own. If a few of them make him feel hollowed out, tender and aching, that’s his own business.

“Hey, can we talk?” Tyler broaches the subject in between games, because however much he wants Jamie to be comfortable around him again, he doesn’t want to put hockey on the line to make it happen. He even sets down his controller, just to indicate how serious he is. He thinks Jamie knows now that Tyler can be serious. Hopes that Jamie does know it, because if he doesn’t then what are they even doing here?

Jamie puts his own controller down slowly, looking around like he’s only just realizing that Jordie left three games ago, that they have the apartment to themselves. “Yeah, of course.” The way he blinks at Tyler, wide-eyed and solemn, makes Tyler feel a bit bad for the ambush, for getting Jordie to go along with it.

Of course, if he’d given Jamie proper forewarning, Jamie would have worked it over in his head and over thought it, driving himself crazy, so maybe this was for the best.

Tyler runs a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s about—we haven’t really talked about any of this.” He gestures between them. “And you’ve been, you know, avoiding me.”

“You said not to chase after you,” Jamie says.

“Yeah, don’t creepy stalk me into an airport massage parlor when I’m pissed at you! I didn’t mean to avoid ever being alone with me!”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Jamie admits softly.

“You couldn’t.” The words are too vulnerable, but he has to get this out. “I know that our, our feelings are different. I don’t feel the way you feel.” He doesn’t want to just be friends, doesn’t want to have left the Loop with nothing more then he came out with. Jamie draws in a sharp breath, and Tyler has to hold up a hand to forestall him, because he can’t bear it. “I’m not trying to— I know it’s not what you want, and I’m sorry.” He forces a smile. “Just please don’t avoid me forever.”

Jamie stares at him for a frozen moment. His face has gone shocky pale, surprised Tyler is even bringing it up, after months of not talking about it. He licks his lips, a too distracting nervous habit. “I’m sorry,” Jamie says hoarsely. He clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to—I won’t let it happen again.”

Tyler wants to hug him—wants to be hugged by him. He settles for thumping a hand against Jamie’s shoulder. “I know, man.”

Jamie shrugs a little. “Besides, maybe if we do more da- if we hang out more, maybe I can talk you around to my side of things.”

As if more proximity to Jamie would make Tyler want him less. He laughs. “Yeah, sure.” Jamie flinches back at that, and Tyler feels a sinking sensation. He’d thought—but if Jamie is really that uncomfortable with Tyler’s stupid feelings. Tyler shrugs. “I mean, you’re welcome to try.”

The smile that blooms over Jamie’s face is soft and sweet and so hopeful. Tyler wants to fucking  _ die. _

 

* * *

 

Jamie corners him after an optional skate. Let it never be said that Tyler doesn’t learn from his mistakes and he’s trying, really trying, to make all practices and team events, informal or otherwise. In some ways, it’s easier in Dallas then it had been in Boston. Not just with Jamie at his side, letting Tyler steal extra bacon off his plate, but also because he never knew how to participate in the Bruins conversations about upcoming weddings and kids and the kind of gossip that came with a decade of NHL skating under your belt.

“So I was thinking,” Jamie says, and he looks awkward and nervous in a way he hasn’t been around Tyler since the season started.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Tyler chirps, just trying to shake that look off of Jamie’s face.

It works—Jamie rolls his eyes. “Weak.”

Tyler bumps his shoulder into Jamie, and Jamie bumps his shoulder back. “Tell me what you were thinking about?”

“We never did get to finish that tour of Dallas.”

Tyler hesitates. They’ve never talked about what happened during the Loop, even after their brief conversation the other week. They’ve talked once or twice about its effects, but never the actual events. Tyler had moved forward under the assumption that they never would, that Jamie wanted to bury it and the knowledge that they were soulmates, and move on as teammates and strangers.

“You mean the Official Benn Driving Tour?” Tyler asks. He can’t get his mind past the memory of how the day had ended, looking up at Jamie with his heart beating in his chest, sure he’d fallen for someone totally impossible. Not much has changed since then.

“I mean, there was the zoo?”

Tyler forces a smile. “There was the zoo,” as if it’s nothing, as if that had  _ meant _ nothing.

“Well, we only got to see the outside of the aquarium,” Jamie says, and he looks like he’s facing a firing squad, or the entire Dallas press corp.

“Jamie Benn, are you asking me to come look at fish with you?” Tyler doesn’t bat his eyelashes, but only just.

Jamie swallows. “Yeah. Yes, I am.”

Tyler pretends to think it over. “Well, it’s no botanical garden,” and laughs when Jamie shoves him.

 

* * *

 

Tyler doesn’t actually have much interest in the aquarium. He likes fish in sushi, and he’s gotten more than used to salmon after years of nutritional planning, but watching them swim around is pretty boring. It’s not like the zoo, where the animal had all been different and warm and alive. The fish just move around, watching him with cold, dead eyes.

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t think he could reason with a fish. A dog can be trained, even wolves and lions move in packs, but nothing about fish give him the idea that they  _ feel  _ things, and he just doesn’t know how to relate to an animal like that.

Jamie has no such reservations, walking through the different rooms with wide eyes. Tyler gives up on watching the fish— the tunnel room had moved from boring to downright unsettling— and he ends up watching the way the water moves the light over Jamie’s face, blue ripples and chords of light highlighting his cheeks, the shadows under his jaw, where Tyler is just the right height to press a kiss.

“Isn’t this cool?” Jamie asks, unfettered delight in his voice. Tyler follows his gaze and inadvertently makes direct eye contact with a shark.

He represses a shiver. “Yeah, it’s awesome.”

He doesn’t know what to  _ do  _ with Jamie. This feels like a  _ date _ , in the same way that the Zoo had, but if anything about Jamie’s feelings have changed, he’s made no sign of it. Tyler has been—he’s been trying to show that he’s ready, that he’s here for this. That he wants to move forward, like he’d told Jamie on the first—the only—time they’d kissed.

Tyler doesn’t hold a grudge well, he never has. He gets angry, he throws his punches, physical or verbal, and he cools down. It’s the hurt that lingers, and even that is fading under the sunshine warmth of Jamie’s smile. But he needs Jamie to make the next move. Tyler has been more than clear, has laid all his cards on the table and Jamie— Jamie is still playing it close to the chest, and the mixed signals are making Tyler’s head spin.

He can’t bear the thought of being the one to bring it up again, not when he’s already been so clear. Even now, months later, his face burns with the memory of how horribly obvious he’d been during the Loop— and with how Jamie had responded.

Jamie, who had seen everything that Tyler had to offer, and hadn’t been interested. If that’s changed, if he actually meant any of the pretty things he’d said during his apology, it’s on him to say so.

And with each day that passes, that seems less and less likely.

“Look at this one!” Jamie points to a large, colorful fish at it swims by, and Tyler drags his eyes away from Jamie’s face to look at it. It’s fine. If this is all Jamie wants, to hang out and be bros and look at creepy, dead-eyed fish, then that’s fine. Tyler can handle it.

 

* * *

 

They get lunch at the cafe in the aquarium— Tyler finds the inclusion of fish on the menu to be more than a little disturbing— and Tyler tries to shove away the thought of just how much like a date this is.

They don’t even talk about hockey. Instead, Jamie asks after Tyler’s sisters, about how Marshall is settling in, and responds with a story about a dog he’d had as a kid.

“It was supposed to be my dog, mine and Jordie’s. But I was never home, and Jordie wasn’t much better, and Jenny was too young, so he ended up just being my mom’s dog. He barely even listened to the rest of us.”

It feels more like the Loops had than anything they’ve done since they ended, and Tyler wants to grab him, demand ‘What are we  _ doing _ , Jamie?’, shake him until an answer pops out of his stupid perfect mouth.

Instead, he lets Jamie steal some of his fries—Jamie had insisted on getting a salad— and tells Jamie about his first dog, who had escaped the house no less than six times in her first week.

The drive back to the apartment is quiet, which is just as nice. Tyler likes to be around people, likes to talk and laugh and joke, but it’s rare he finds someone with whom he can sit in silence. The radio plays soft country music, and Tyler watches the Dallas skyline pass them by.

“How are you liking the apartment?”

In the months since Tyler officially moved in, Jamie has yet to visit Tyler’s place since he helped him move in. Tyler has been to Jamie’s, sometimes more often than his own place, but never the other way around.

“It’s nice. I keep meaning to get furniture for the rest of the place, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“I could help?” Jamie offers. “Next time we have an off-day.”

Tyler should say no. Sheer self-preservation should stop from him from another day of watching Jamie hauling furniture, arms bulging with muscle, or setting things up with careful precision.

Tyler has never been good at self-preservation.

“Thanks, man. That sounds great!”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s exactly as bad as Tyler had feared, but at the end of it, Tyler has a fully furnished apartment. He probably should have left it to a designer like his last place, but he likes the feel of this. The rest of the furniture isn’t from IKEA, but it still has a homey feel. Something about knowing that he and Jamie picked it out together makes it better than the most perfect apartment money could buy.

More than that, it breaks the seal on Jamie staying away from him. Between the aquarium and setting up the apartment, it’s almost like being back in the Loops but  _ better _ . It’s hockey and team and talking to his family, but it’s also lunch with Jamie, watching Jamie play tug-a-war with Marshall, Jamie coming into his apartment on off-days to make breakfast because Tyler won’t eat until lunch if left alone. It’s almost everything Tyler wants.

 

* * *

 

 

In November, they go to Boston, and everyone starts acting like Tyler is made of glass. They try to be subtle about it, but subtlety is not something hockey players excel at it. No one says anything directly, so Tyler doesn’t feel the need to call any of them on it. It’s nice, actually, that they care enough to  _ be  _ concerned.

Jamie breaks first, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but is.

“Can I get a ride?” Jamie asks after practice. Tyler shoots a look to Jordie, who had driven both the Benn brothers in the morning, but Jamie doesn’t offer an excuse.

“Sure,” because he’s not going to say  _ no. _

Jamie doesn’t say much on the drive, so Tyler cranks up the music and rolls down the window. It’s colder than he had expected for a Texas winter, but it’s far from  _ cold.  _ Apparently, he’ll adjust, but for now he can’t stop laughing at the locals, bundled up with toques and jackets in 50 degree weather.

It’s snowing in Boston this week. It’ll be snowing when they get there.

Jamie doesn’t push the button for his own floor, and Tyler has done the same himself more then once, so he lets Jamie follow him without commentary. Despite the residual weirdness, Jamie is indisputably a friend. One of his best friends, if he’s being honest. Hanging out after practice is not that unusual.

Jamie’s tension, going to Tyler’s place and not his own, that is.

Marshall greets them both at the door, tail wagging. Tyler gets in far enough to drop his bag before he goes to his knees to greet his boy. Marshall, shameless as always, rolls over to get belly rubs, which Tyler obliges. After a moment, he looks up to Jamie to see him wearing a soft, open expression that makes Tyler’s heart turn over in his chest.

His hands still on Marshall and he feels caught in Jamie’s gaze, his heart in his throat.

Then Marshall butts into his chin, dissatisfied at the lack of pets, and almost knocks Tyler over.

Jamie laughs, and gets down on Tyler’s level. “No kisses for me, boy?” he asks, and Marshall turns his attentions to Jamie just as easily, licking over his face.

This close, Jamie is pressed against him, legs flush from knee to thigh and their shoulders brushing. Tyler can’t look away from him, getting covered in doggy slobber, laughing and only pretending to try and push Marshall away. Tyler’s heart feels too big for his chest.

He wraps his arms around Marshall and pulls him closer, using Marshall to hide his face, sure every embarrassing thought is written across it. It was fine when he wanted to fuck Jamie—or to be fucked by Jamie— but now he wants to  _ hold his hand. _ He wants to adopt puppies with him and wake up next to him and come home to him and a million dogs and Tyler—Tyler doesn’t know how to handle that.

He only stands up when he’s pulled himself together, finds that Jamie is already standing. Jamie offers him a hand up and Tyler accepts it, letting Jamie pull him to his feet. He comes up too close, almost sharing a breath. For a moment, they’re frozen again, his hand in Jamie’s, their chests almost touching with each inhale.

Tyler take a step back and clears his throat. “Beer?”

Jamie just nods, and Tyler can’t even begin to make out the expression on his face.

The thing is, sometimes Jamie looks at Tyler like that, big eyes warm and soft, or holds on too long. Sometimes the air between them goes tight and charged, and everything seems to fall away around them. Sometimes, Tyler truly believes that Jamie meant it when he said that he loved Tyler.

But Tyler also knows that sometimes, love isn’t enough. Jamie loving him isn’t enough. It’s not anything, if Jamie doesn’t trust him. If Jamie still thinks that he’s a shitty soulmate, immature and reckless. And Jamie hasn’t given any indication that he’s changed his mind on that front.

Tyler presses his palms flat on the island and breathes. He can hear Jamie playing with Marshall out in the living room, and it just makes it harder to pull himself together. His skin feels too tight for his body, his heart in his throat and exposed on his sleeve all at once.

He shoves it all down and gets two beers from the fridge.

Sure enough, Jamie has unearthed Marshall’s rope toy and is pulling tug-a-war with it, tugging it gently back and forth and letting Marshall pull it back.

“Here,” Tyler says ungraciously, shoving the drink in Jamie’s face.

Jamie lets Marshall win, letting go of the rope slowly enough that Marshall doesn’t fall back, before he takes it. Marshall retreats to his bed to chew on the rope and watch them both as though they plan to take it from him.

“Thanks.”

Tyler switches on the TV and drops onto the couch. He and Jamie have very different taste in media, so he switches over to HGTV, the one channel they both like aside from ESPN.

Jamie sits next to him, closer than he needs to on a couch this big, but not so close that they touch. It’s another way that this is weird. Tyler is a physical guy. He likes to touch people, likes to lean against people on the couch or sling an arm around someone at a bar. He doesn’t have many close friends, but he’s never had reservations about getting into their space.

Jamie is definitely a close friend, and Tyler rarely touches him. He wants to stretch out on the couch and put his head on Jamie’s thigh. He wants to move closer, so that their shoulder touch.

He compromises by turning into the side of the couch and working his toes under Jamie’s leg. Jamie’s hand comes down automatically and wraps around his ankle. Absently, he strokes his thumb across the thin skin over the line of Tyler’s sock.

Tyler might have miscalculated.

He takes a long swallow of his beer, and tries to pretend that his focus hasn’t narrowed to the slow sweep of Jamie’s fingers.

“So,” Jamie says, pulling Tyler’s attention back. Tyler looks up at him, but Jamie is staring at the TV.

“So?” Tyler prompts, when Jamie doesn’t continue.

“So, Boston.”

Ah. Tyler really should have seen this coming. He forces his muscles to relax. “Town in Massachusetts? Home of the Patriots, the Red Sox, and the Bruins?”

Jamie’s hand tightens unmistakably at the last. “That’s the one. I just wanted to, you know, check in on you.”

“I’m fine.” Even as he says it, Tyler knows how it sounds.

Sure enough, Jamie tears his gaze away from the TV to meet Tyler’s eyes. “Ty, seriously.”

Tyler pulls his legs in, out of Jamie’s touch. “Seriously, Chubbs. I mean it. It’s cool. It was-” he swallows. “You of all people know it was longer ago than people think it was. I’ve had months to get used to it.”

Jamie doesn’t take the bait, just searches Tyler’s face. “It’s okay to be, you know, not okay.” God, he’s so awkward, and Tyler hates that he finds it so endearing. He wraps his arms around his legs, leaning his chin on his knees. “I know it was a rough trade. I just want to be here, if you need anything.”

“Jamie,” Tyler sighs, wanting him to stop pushing. The truth is uglier and more embarrassing than Tyler is ready for.

“And if you need to talk, or to get drinks after the game, or just to-”

“Why won’t you believe that it doesn’t bother me anymore? Yeah, it’ll be weird to play them but I really am fine. I  _ like _ playing for the Stars.”

“Because you’re all curled up and you’ve spent the past two weeks playing like you have something to prove.”

Tyler does have something to prove, but it’s not to Boston. “We all have something to prove, Jamie, jesus. Have you given this talk to Pevs? To literally anyone else? Or am I the only one you think is too immature to keep their head in the game?”

Jamie looks stricken, and reaches out for Tyler. “No! No, god. I didn’t want to—of course you can handle it. I just meant, you shouldn’t have to. We’re here for you.” He swallows, eyes darting around the room. “I’m here for you.”

Tyler pulls away from his hand. “Thanks but no thanks, Captain. That was hardly the hardest part of this summer.” He didn’t mean to say it, but he can’t stand— Jamie offering to comfort him, as though the Bruins was the loss that Tyler was still reeling from.

Jamie flinches, and Tyler thinks  _ good _ before he hates himself for it.

“Right. Right, of course. I shouldn’t—” he sucks in a deep breath, curling his hand in against his own chest. “I don’t mean to keep, you know, making it weird.”

It’s always going to be a bit weird, as long as Tyler is in love and Jamie isn’t. It’s not Jamie’s fault.

Tyler looks away. “You didn’t. We just, we don’t feel the same way. It happens.” It happens a lot. Tyler falls hard and fast, and he’s never fallen for anyone like he has for Jamie. Maybe that’s what soulmate means. Someone who you want to let in, to let yourself fall for. Except, it just means they’re close enough to hurt. Falling only works if someone is there to catch you.

“Yeah,” Jamie croaks. “Well, I just—I want to help. Whatever you feel for me, don’t forget that I’m here, okay?”

Ad if Tyler could ever forget, with Jamie alternately too close and too far away.

“Thanks,” Tyler manages, pulling his legs up closer to his chest.

Jamie searches his face, and Tyler tries to look like a man who has his life together. Whatever Jamie finds must satisfy him, and he turns back to the TV. Tyler breathes a sigh of relief and turns the volume up.

 

* * *

 

It is weird, being back in Boston. It’s not as terrible as everyone seems to expect though. Tyler’s stomach drops when he steps on the ice to a booing crowd, and there’s a moment in the 2nd period where he almost passes to Marchy, but he pulls in back in the last second, manages to redirect to someone in Victory Green.

Jamie, who has looked a bit wild around the eyes since their plane touched down, plays like a man possessed, netting a goal in the first period. Tyler slams into him in the next second, and Jamie shouts something, but Tyler can’t hear him over their teammates and the noise from the crowd.

The win in a shootout, Tyler and Pevs bring it home and it’s—Tyler doesn’t even know what to do with it. Two former Bruins, helping to defeat their former team. In a movie, he wouldn’t believe it. There’s a lot in his life that would be at home in a cheesy movie script.

As they’re leaving the ice, Tyler waits for a feeling of loss, for the grief and anger that had consumed him when he’d boarded that plane the first time. It’s only an echo, the way a scar hurts even after it’s healed. He turns his head to see Jamie waiting at the tunnel, concern clear on his face.

It’s just like Tyler has been telling everyone the whole time. He’s over it. He’s fine.

He grins at Jamie as he steps off the ice, and Jamie grins back.

Well. He’s mostly fine.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the year passes quickly, November turning into December, Christmas turning into New Years. There isn’t enough time between games to get home, so they do team things. Nothing changes

On New Year’s Eve, the entire team piles into Jamie’s apartment, popping at the seams. They watch the ball drop an hour early, and do their own countdown at midnight. As they count three-two-one, Tyler looks at Jamie and wants to kiss him. When Jamie meets his eyes, he’s sure, so sure, that Jamie is thinking the same thing.

They don’t talk about it.

 

* * *

 

 

The call comes in the locker room, after practice. Jamie is half out of his gear, shirtless and distracting, when he picks up.

Tyler can read it on his face, they all can. One by one, they all fall silent as Jamie says “Yes,” and “Thank you” and “It’s an honor,” and when he hangs up, Tyler feels like he could scream.

It’s Jordie who breaks the silence. “Was that-”

Jamie is already nodding, beaming.

Tyler slams into him first, pulling him into a hug, so fucking proud of him. “Congratulations,” he says, pulling back to look at him. The rest of the locker room is screaming, and Tyler thinks, just another inch, he could lean forward and—

Jordie joins him, almost picking Jamie up in a hug. Tyler steps back, away from Jamie. If Jordie hadn’t—they could have— Tyler hadn’t thought about anyone else in the locker room, about consequences, about anything except that look in Jamie’s eyes, sheer happiness and want.

Tyler grabs Eakes, the closest Canadian to him, and leads everyone in a rendition of Oh, Canada while Jamie laughs so hard he almost falls over.

 

* * *

 

 

Tyler himself isn’t too broken up about not going to the Olympics. He’d already sufficiently damaged his image with Hockey Canada, and just knowing that Jamie will be going is enough for him.

And, more than that, the break will be good for him. He’s not looking forward to it, not at all, but he needs the time away from Jamie, needs space to get his head together. While the last few months have been as good as the Loops, they’ve also been just as  _ bad _ as the Loops, no space from Jamie, from his smile and his eyes and his stupid arms.

It’s hard to get over someone when they are constantly in your space.

Tyler books a flight to Cancun. He’s going to spend the entire time drinking and partying and kissing boys who don’t know who he is and never will.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a plan that works better in theory then in practice. He does his fair share of drinking and partying and kissing, but getting over Jamie was a fool’s gambit from the start. Every boy he kisses— tall men with blonde hair, men with sun dark skin and black curls, locals and partiers and people whose name he never learns or asks— just reminds him of that kiss with Jamie.

The only kiss they had, pressed up in Jamie’s kitchen, warm and slow and scorching. It’s in the nineties in Cancun, and nothing has managed to match the heat of that kiss. The heat in the looks Jamie keeps giving him but never follows up on.

He ends up spending most of his time at the beach, stretched out on the sand or diving into the ocean, keeping his time and his thoughts to himself.

Three days in, he gets a text from Jamie, which just reads ‘ _ You could have warned me about Crosby’ _

He’s in the middle of typing out a sarcastic reply before he realizes what Jamie has to mean, and he can actually feel the blood drain from his face.

He facetimes Jamie before he can think better of it.

Jamie answers, even though the time difference cannot be working in his favor. He looks sleep-rumpled and soft, and his eyes go wide when he sees Tyler.

“What did he say?” Tyler demands.

“Huh.” Jamie’s ears are red, and Tyler abruptly wonders if he interrupted something. Tyler has heard all about the Olympic sexcapades. But no, Jamie just texted him, and Crosby isn’t anyone’s idea of good bedroom talk. Except maybe for Malkin, but everyone knows the Russians are crazy.

“Crosby. Did he say— what did he say to you?”

Jamie hesitates. “Nothing I didn’t need to hear.”

“Captain Canada strikes again,” Tyler jokes, and it falls flat. It’s weird, to feel the sun hot on his back and see nothing but dark shadows behind Jamie. He doesn’t even know what time it is there.

“You never said you talked to him.”

Tyler shrugs. “He asked me not to.”

Jamie is staring at him, gaze intent even over the grainy cellphone camera, spanned over the distance of continents.

“What?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s— nothing.”

Tyler wants to push but— but pushing Jamie has never given him an answer he liked. “How are the Olympics? Is it everything you dreamed of?” Are you happier there? Are you hooking up? Are your other linemates better than me? More mature, more grounded— more suited to being your soulmate?

“It’s been fun, but it’s barely started.” He hesitates again. “I miss you.”

Tyler’s throat goes tight, and he swallows again. “I miss you too,” he forces out. “Don’t replace me with all those Canadians.”

Jamie laughs. “You’re Canadian too, dumbass.”

“Only technically.”

Someone in the background says something, and Jamie turns his head to reply. Tyler loses most of it, but he catches ‘sorry’ at the end. Then Jamie turns back, his face apologetic. “I have to go—we have a game tomorrow. You’ll watch?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Tyler says honestly.

Jamie beams at him, and there is the heat that Tyler has missed here in Mexico, warmer than any sunlight. “Good night.”

“Night,” Tyler replies, and the screen goes dark.

Tyler puts his phone down and drops his head into his arms.

He is so fucked.

 

* * *

 

He watches all of the Team Canada games, and he calls Jamie after each one. Jamie, even though he has to be drowning in praise and booze and a veritable sea of sexual options, always picks up. Tyler loves him like this, giddy and excited, radiating happiness. Jamie answers in a bar after the game with Finland, slurring and laughing, having to yell over the noise around him. Tyler can’t hear a word he says, but he soaks in the tone of his voice until Jamie accidentally hangs up on him.

Tyler stares at his phone for a moment, then starts to laugh. He wishes he could be there to see Jamie that drunk, but it’s nice just to think of it.

After the USA game, after Jamie  _ scores the game winning goal _ , Tyler feels so full of love and pride that he could burst, and he drinks four margaritas before it feels safe to call Jamie without spilling his feelings all over the place.

The phone call is incoherent from both of them, too much screaming in the background of Jamie’s call and a heavy bass playing through the bar where Tyler had hijacked the television. Tyler doesn’t actually remember the call itself, just the feelings that rushed through him, letting Jamie yell a recount of the game, and yelling back what it had been like to watch it until the dirty looks from the people around him make Tyler get off the phone.

It’s nothing compared to the call after the gold medal game because,  _ holy shit _ , Jamie is a gold medalist now. Tyler isn’t a selfish person, but he never thought that he could be this unrelentingly happy for another person, no trace of jealousy or envy.

It’s more screaming, more shouting, more giving one another an utterly unnecessary play by play of the game, and the shots of tequila are Tyler’s only excuse for how he says “Fuck, that was so— I’m so in love with you, Jamie Benn.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it, it’s become such a part of him, such an undeniable truth that the words fall out as easy as breathing, until he hears a clatter, a swear, and the phone line goes dead.

This time, when Tyler pulls back to stare at his phone, he doesn’t laugh. He actually wants to cry, a bit. The last time, it had been mid sentence, clearly an accident, but this.

He knows enough about Jamie now to understand that he’s prone to running away when he panics. It explains the Loops better than anything else. That, for all that Jamie never hesitates to drop gloves on the ice, he hates any kind of conflict that involves emotions, will push them aside and delay them for as long as possible.

Tyler isn’t surprised when Jamie doesn’t call him back.

 

* * *

 

Tyler has first hand experience of how far Jamie’s avoidance tactics can take him, and he refuses to let it ruin the friendship they have. It’s not all that he wants, but he treasures it all the same. He can live a lifetime without kissing Jamie again, but not without being Jamie’s friend. 

When he was younger, he’d made jokes about being friendzoned, or about his friends being friendzoned by girls they were chasing, but he knows now that he was an  _ idiot _ . There is nothing inherently less valuable in being someone’s friend, and he’d rather have that than have nothing.

So he does not intend to let Jamie avoid him. He’s willing to pretend it never happened, like they’ve both done about the Loops, like Jamie has done so far about Tyler’s obvious feelings for him. Honestly, he can’t imagine it came as much of  a surprise, and once Jamie sees that Tyler doesn’t intend to push it, things will settle back to normal.

He gets Jordie to promise to let Tyler know when Jamie gets back, and finishes unpacking from his trip. He has tanlines at his hips and thighs, but once the season starts and his body adjusts to constantly being indoors, they’ll fade fast enough.

He doesn’t actually know how long Jamie intends to stay in Sochi, soaking up the victory. He’d texted Crosby a quick congrats, because apparently he and Crosby are texting buddies, and Crosby had indicated he was already on the way back. But then, Crosby has a soulmate he wants, and a home to return to and Jamie has— well, Tyler. He could probably stay comfortable in Sochi all the way until Olympic village shuts down around him.

So it’s pretty surprising when Tyler hears from Jordie in the middle of a run with Marshall, saying that Jamie is back, but super jetlagged and Tyler should stop by tomorrow.

Tyler wants to come by the apartment right now, wants to push into Jamie’s space and hug him and congratulate him and make him realize that he’s not allowed to drop Tyler completely from his life— not now, not ever.

(He wants to drop to his knees, show Jamie how fucking amazing he is, how that goal on USA had made his mouth go dry, wants to exorcise his patriotic duty by giving Jamie the best blowjob he’s ever had, wants to  _ choke _ on it and—)

He texts a thumbs up to Jordie and takes another three laps around the park, Marshall at his heels.

 

* * *

 

He’s seen Jamie coming off a bad jetlag before, and that was only a couple hours, not after an international flight, so he’s pretty surprised when Jamie shows up at his door. He looks—fuck, he looks  _ great. _

He’s somehow bulked up even more, no doubt the high pressure environment of the Olympic training camp, and even though he’s clearly still tired, the glow and pride of winning still clings to him. He’s even shaved recently, and he’s not wearing his usual day-in clothes, but a black button-up with jeans.

“Uh,” Tyler says, all of his carefully planned openers to Not Make Things Weird leaving his mind at once. All of it had been predicated on him going to see Jamie, not the other way around.

“Hey,” Jamie looks just as awkward as Tyler could have predicted, and Tyler feels his heart sink. “Can I come in?”

Tyler has to dig deep to find some semblance of normality, but he manages it. He leans against the door. “Depends. Do you have it?”

Jamie blinks at him. “It?”

“Your gold medal, dumbass. Do you have it? I want to see!” He makes grabby hands. Seeing the gold medal had been his planned excuse to drop by as soon as possible, because it was better then ‘I missed you so much it scares me.’

“Oh. No, I —it’s upstairs.”

“Damn, Benn. If I was an Olympic gold athlete, you wouldn’t see me without it! Grocery shopping? Gold medal. Working out? Gold medal. The beach—oh what’s, this? Oh, just my Olympic gold medal.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, the tension already bleeding out of him. “That’s because you’re an attention whore.” He pushes gently past Tyler, who gasps.

“How dare you!”

He doesn’t get further than that because that’s about when Marshall — a terrible guard dog and worse wingman—runs out of Tyler’s bedroom to greet Jamie, and Jamie gets to his knees to give him the pets that he does not deserve.

Tyler has to close the door quickly after that, because the last time Marshall had gotten out, he’d gotten into the open elevator and hit something with his nose, and recovering him had been a all-day experience.

After a moment, Jamie gently nudges Marshall off him and gets to his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

Tyler feels his stomach drop, and he turns away so that Jamie won’t read it on his face. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds, uh. Did you want something to drink?”

He goes to the kitchen before Jamie can answer, fishing out some of the gross artisan beer that Jamie likes and a Molsen’s for himself. He keeps his head in the refrigerator for a long moment, taking deep breaths until he has himself under control and can turn to Jamie with a smile.

“What’s up?” He pops the top off both and hands Jamie his, taking a long drag from his own.

Jamie holds his own in his hands, looking unsure. “Did you want to, uh, sit?”

Tyler would rather just get this over with.

“Nah, all good.”

“Right.” Jamie looks at the beer in his hands, takes a sip, and puts it down. “Do you know, I think Crosby likes you better than me?”

Tyler laughs, surprised. “That cannot  _ possibly _ be true.”

Jamie pretends to think it over, “Well, maybe now that I’ve helped him get another gold medal,” he says, then shakes his head. “But seriously. He wanted to— he asked after you.”

“Oh god. Please don’t tell me anything else. Why were you two even  _ talking _ ?”

Jamie rolls his beer between his palms. “Would you believe I went to him for advice?”

Tyler just stares at him. “You’re  _ joking _ .”

“I’m really not.”

Tyler can feel the laugh pushing out of him, slightly hysterical. “God, he must have thought-”

“Oh, he definitely thought I was an idiot,” Jamie says, mouth twitching, and Tyler loses it. He ends up sitting at the counter anyway, slumping onto the chair as he laughs. Jamie just watches him until Tyler tires himself out.

“What did you want to ask him?”

“What did you?” Jamie shoots back.

Tyler glares at him. “I asked you first!”

“What happens at the Olympics stays at the Olympics. Sid and I share a sacred bond now. A sacred hockey bond.” Tyler flips him off, and Jamie grins. “I’ll tell you. I just—let me finish?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jamie makes a face. “Yeah, you say of course, but I’ve met you, I know you-”

“Just tell me!”

Jamie begins to pick absently at the label on his bottle. “I asked how he handled the bond with Malkin. How he handled—if he’d ever been in a bond with someone who didn’t love him back.”

It hits Tyler like a sucker punch, knocking the wind from him. “Why would you want to know that?” He can barely get the words out. “Because you can’t—you can’t just  _ reason _ me out of being in love with you. It’s how I feel, you fuck-”

“I was asking for me!” Jamie shouts over him, and Tyler falls quiet. “I was asking for me,” he repeats, softer.

Tyler gapes at him. “What the fuck.”

Jamie winces.

“What the  _ fuck _ do you mean, with someone who doesn’t want you back? I’m fucking in love with you, you asshole! I told you that literally three days ago, and you  _ hung up on me _ .”

Jamie gets to his feet, and Tyler realizes that he had jumped to his own. “I thought it might be patriotic fervor. But Crosby said I was being an idiot.”

“You were being an idiot,” Tyler confirms for him.

Jamie scowls. “How could I have known? You’ve been pretty clear about how you feel.”

“I told you during the Loops that I wished you were my soulmate. I told you I loved you—  what the actual  _ fuck, _ Jameson?”

Jamie shoves into his space, forcing Tyler to take a step back. “I asked you. I asked you if you still loved me and you said you wanted to be  _ friends _ .”

Tyler pushes him back, getting right back in his face. “Excuse me if I didn’t want to get rejected by you for like, the fifth time! Every time I said anything during the Loop you fucking ran away and I couldn’t do it again!”

“I wasn’t going to  _ reject _ you, fuck, Tyler. I was trying to see if I still had a chance!”

“It wasn’t a  _ chance _ , I was a fucking sure thing, you  _ moron _ !” Tyler shouts, too furious at how fucking  _ stupid _ Jamie is to even think through the rest of it.

Jamie stares at him, eyes wide and face flushed, both of their chests heaving, and then Jamie surges forward, taking Tyler’s face in his hands and pulls him up into a kiss. It’s not quite angry, but it’s forceful enough that Tyler’s back slams up against the fridge. Fucking Jamie Benn, who has hesitated over every decision between the two of them since day one, kissing him like the world will end without it. 

Tyler feels  _ so much _ , overwhelmed and furious about it, confused and turned on and so in love it hurts to breathe. He bites at Jamie’s lips until they fall open, until Jamie is making desperate noises into the space between them, his fingertips points of pressure against Tyler’s skin. 

But then Jamie strokes a thumb over Tyler’s cheekbone, and his lips go soft and gentle, and the kiss slides into something tender and delicate. Jamie kisses him like Tyler is the only thing in the world he’s ever wanted, he kisses Tyler like he  _ loves  _ him. It’s just as consuming, just as devastating as their first kiss.

Jamie presses further into him, tilting Tyler’s face into his, gently taking Tyler’s lips, nipping carefully and soothing the ache, like he needs to convince Tyler, like this is his one chance.

Fuck that.

Tyler wraps one hand around the back of Jamie’s neck to pull him closer, letting the other fall to his hip. This doesn’t have to be a kiss to win him over. Tyler is won over, game over, as thoroughly Jamie’s as the gold medal. Jamie groans, the sound shivering through Tyler. Then Jamie’s hand slips into his hair and  _ tugs,  _ and Tyler gasps.

“Do you like that?” Jamie asks, and does it again.

“Fuck,” Tyler groans, head falling back against the fridge. His legs fall open, and Jamie steps between them, one broad thigh settling perfectly as Jamie kisses the curve of Tyler’s jaw, the exposed line of his neck as Tyler gasps.

Tyler can feel Jamie, hard against his hip and god, he  _ wants _ that. Jamie’s thigh is pressed against Tyler’s cock, and when Jamie claims his mouth again, he hitches in, grinding into Tyler until his mouth goes slack.

Tyler grabs at Jamie’s ass, pulling him closer, inviting Jamie to thrust against him, both of them desperate and overwhelmed. God,  _ fuck,  _ he’s going to come like this, riding Jamie’s thigh in his own fucking kitchen. He’s going to think of this every time he goes to make a sandwich, to grab a protein shake, and that thought makes him even harder. He’s never  _ ever  _ going to be able to forget this.

He can hear desperate noises spilling from his own lips whenever their mouths part, desperate and needy and—

Marshall slams into both their legs, almost knocking them both over, distracted as they are. For a moment, it just slides them together in a way that forces a whine from Tyler’s throat, and then Jamie breaks off with a laugh, leaning his head against Tyler’s shoulder.

Marshall nudges them again, pleading for attention.

“You’re the worst wingman,” Tyler tells Marshall seriously, and Jamie’s shoulders are shaking as he laughs. Marshall wags his tail hopefully. “I’m sorry,” Tyler says, combing his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “I should feed him.”

Jamie steps back, and Tyler feels cold all along his front. “Yeah, of course. He’s your baby.”

God, Tyler loves him so much. He ducks in to give Jamie a quick kiss, but then Jamie follows his mouth, deepening it, and only Marshall’s low whine stops them from going back to where they just were.

Jamie takes a step back, then another. “Fuck,” he says, low and reverent as his eyes rake over Tyler, to where Tyler is tenting the front of his basketball shorts, the flush Tyler can feel on his face and neck. Jamie isn’t much better, visibly hard in his jeans, his mouth red and swollen, hair in casual disarray. He looks gorgeous. Tyler wants to fucking  _ wreck _ him.

He forces his eyes away, busying himself with Marshall’s food bowl, with getting him water.

“So,” Tyler says, when he’s given Marshall everything he possibly can, can’t put this off any longer. “This is—you want to do this?”

The look Jamie gives him is tender and warm, and he settles his hands on Tyler’s hips. “Every day for the rest of my fucking life.”

Tyler kisses him, can’t not, and Jamie just pulls him closer, hands steady and broad on Tyler’s hips. They’re rocking together, not enough friction for either of them but so, so good when Jamie pulls away to gasp “Bedroom.”

Tyler’s knees got a little weak. “Yes, fuck. I want you to fuck me.”

Jamie groans into his ear and his hands drop to Tyler’s ass, pulling Tyler against him again. “I’m going to fuck you so good,” he says, low and direct into Tyler’s ear. It’s his captain voice, the one that brooks no disagreement and Tyler almost loses it right there. He grabs Jamie’s hand and all but drags him to the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed.

Jamie falls easily, laughing. Tyler has to take a minute, overwhelmed, just to look at him. The black shirt always looks so good on him, highlighting the contrast of his pale skin and dark hair, the warm brown of his eyes. Against the pale grey of Tyler’s bedspread, he looks—god, indescribable.

“You always button up your shirt too high,” he says.

“Yeah?” Jamie gives him a challenging look. “You want to fix that for me?”

Tyler wants to  _ rip _ his shirt open, wants to open it with his fucking  _ teeth _ . He can’t even form the words to say so, just climbs right over him, knees on either side of Jamie’s hips. Jamie is broad enough that it’s a stretch, that he has to settle his weight on Jamie’s thighs to stay balanced. He reaches out with trembling fingers, carefully unbuttoning the top button, the second one.

“You always rip the neck out of your t-shirts, how can you even stand this?” he asks, following the movement of this own fingers. Jamie’s hands are steadying him, broad over his hips. He can feel them through the thin fabric of his basketball shorts like there’s nothing there.

“What’s the point of buttons if you don’t use them?” Jamie asks, and Tyler can’t resist a line like that.

“I have one suggestion.” And he’s unbuttoned the shirt enough to get a hand on either side of the shirt, and rips it open, all the way down. Jamie isn’t wearing an undershirt, just the broad expanse of his chest open to Tyler’s hands.

“Jesus fuck,” Jamie says, pupils blown wide, and gets a hand in Tyler’s hair to pull him down. It’s a bit awkward, but Jamie’s fingers are carding through his hair with gentle tugs, and if Tyler rocks forward then they can thrust against one another, hips rolling in slow, delicious circles.

“Wait, wait,” Tyler pushes at Jamie’s shoulders, pushing Jamie back onto the bed. Jamie moves to sit up, and Tyler pushes him back down. God, the  _ look _ of him. His strong chest, framed by the black lines of the shirt, the flush on his neck, creeping down his chest. The dark furls of hair, thick on his pecs and trailing down, a long line to the waist of his jeans.

“Tyler?”

“I just,” Tyler has to swallow, “I just wanted to look.” He runs his palms over the exposed skin, the hair catching on his calluses. Jamie arches into his touch with a groan as Tyler follows the line of him. Jamie’s stomach is softer than Tyler’s, just a smallest bit of give over rock solid muscle. 

“That’s, ah!, that’s more than looking,” Jamie gasps as Tyler thumbs open the button on his jeans.

“Whoops,” Tyler says, and leans down to press an openmouthed kiss to the defined musculature just above a nipple. Jamie swears, chest pushing up into Tyler’s mouth, and he cant resist a grin, can’t resist a small bite, just a hint of teeth.

Jamie’s hands clamp down on his hips, and he flips them in a show of strength that makes Tyler’s mouth go dry. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Tyler’s mouth work for moment before he can rasp out a desperate, pleading yes. The smile Jamie gives him is the kind Tyler usually sees on the ice, hot with victory and pride. It makes Tyler tremble, every limb going tight with anticipation.

Then Jamie is climbing off of him, and Tyler would complain, but Jamie is stripping out of his jeans, peeling the ruined shirt from his shoulders. He’s wearing black boxers, the fabric distorted around his erection, and Tyler pulls himself down the bed so he can sit on the edge of it, face to face with Jamie’s hard-on.

“I’ve thought about this,” Tyler says. “Everytime I jerk off here, I think about you building this bed for me. About you fucking me on it.” He leans forward to wrap his mouth around the place where precome has already started to soak the fabric. Jamie groans, hands going to Tyler’s shoulders like he’s worried about falling. Tyler looks up at him, mouth around just the tip, getting the fabric soaked as he tongues over it. Jamie’s biting his lower lip, staring down at Tyler with awe and wonder until Tyler has to look away.

He eases Jamie’s boxers off, his cock springing free. Tyler’s mouth waters. Fuck, he’s huge— long and thick, already flushed red, wet at the tip. He leans in to lick at the base, drawing his mouth up to the tip. “I saw that goal against the US,” Tyler says, “I wanted to blow you so badly. I would have dropped to my knees right there on the ice, on international tv. That way, everyone would know that you were  _ mine. _ ”

Jamie keens and digs his fingers into Tyler’s shoulders. “I am, fuck, Tyler. I’m fucking  _ yours.” _

The words rock through Tyler like thunder, an electrical current going through him, and he has to pull back to meet Jamie’s eyes. There isn’t a lie in his face, nothing but love and want. Jamie cups Tyler’s jaw. Tyler turns his face into Jamie’s palm and presses a kiss to his fingers.

“Me too.”

It’s like the sun comes up in Jamie’s face, so happy it’s blinding. “Come on, Ty.” Jamie pushes at Tyler’s shoulder, gently easing him back. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Tyler blinks up at the ceiling, struggling for breath. He props himself up on his arms when he feels Jamie’s hands on his waistband, watches as Jamie strips Tyler of his shorts and boxer-briefs. Tyler squirms out of his own shirt, tossing it off the side of the bed.

“Do you have stuff?” Jamie asks, his eyes raking over Tyler, eyes wild.

“Stuff?” Tyler repeats, grinning. “I have lots of stuff.”

Jamie smacks his hip. “You know what I mean.”

Tyler laugh, and clambers up the bed. “If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.” He has to stretch to get the lube and, after a moment’s debate, a condom out of the bedside drawer. He looks over, expecting Jamie to still be at the foot of the bed, but he hardly has time to roll back over before Jamie is on him, settling his weight over Tyler’s hips and both hands on his shoulders, bearing him down into the bed.

“How’s this for saying it?” Jamie growls. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to  _ walk _ .”

Tyler’s hips buck against Jamie’s, a low whine escaping him. “Please.”

“Do you like this?” Jamie asks, pushing at Tyler’s shoulder, pressing down until his mouth is next to Tyler’s ear, their chests touching. “You like being held down?”

Tyler can’t even form  _ words _ , just moans and thrashes against Jamie’s hold. Jamie just pins him through it, not giving Tyler room to move, waiting it out until Tyler can just lie there, struggling to breathe, overwhelmed and surrounded and perfect. Jamie kisses him again, slow and luxurious, letting Tyler languish in it until Jamie pulls away, his mouth dragging down Tyler’s jaw, his neck.

Jamie presses kisses down Tyler’s body, a slow and meandering path down that leaves Tyler feeling delicate and loved and  _ worshipped _ , blinking watery eyes at the ceiling.Jamie moves his hands back to Tyler’s hip, pinning him down as he gets to Tyler’s cock.

For a moment, he just stares, breath hot on Tyler’s skin until Tyler pushes up on his arms and says “Jamie, please,” and Jamie wraps one hand around the base and leans in to tongue at the shaft. Tyler can’t look away as Jamie takes the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking Tyler down. He can’t go far but he uses his hand for the rest.

Tyler can hear himself making desperate noises, Jamie’s name, broken pleas for more. When Jamie looks up at meets his eyes, it’s like a punch to the gut. Jamie’s eyes are lust-hazy and blown wide because,  _ fuck _ , because he’s getting off on this.

His hand shifts, then falls away although and Tyler hears the click of the lube, and a gentle touch on his entrance. Tyler’s hips jerk, pushing deeper into Jamie’s throat. Jamie chokes and pulls back and  _ moans _ and Tyler clenches his hands on the sheets.

It’s been longer than Tyler wants to admit, so it takes Jamie a bit to work in a finger, his mouth going slack with distraction as he concentrates on stretching Tyler open, just letting Tyler nudge gently into his mouth. When Jamie adds a second finger, the stretch tugging at Tyler’s rim, he thrusts up enough to hit the back of Jamie’s throat and Jaime pulls off, gasping.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tyler says.

“Someday, I’m going to hold you down so you can’t move, and suck you off like that.”

Tyler throws his head back. “ _ Fuck,  _ Jamie, you can’t say shit like that?”

“No?” Jamie asks, thrusting in with his fingers at the same time, making Tyler arch and curse.

“Yes, yes, Jamie, fuck.”

When Jamie adds a third finger, Tyler curls like he was punched, pleasure rolling through him. He ends up with a leg propped over Jamie’s shoulder, Jamie’s eyes intent on his hole.  “You’re doing so good, Ty. I knew you’d be like this, I knew you’d be perfect.”

“Fuck me,” Tyler sobs, “fuck me, fuck me.” He keens again when Jamie draws his fingers out, and there’s a horrible moment of stillness as Jamie rolls the condom on.

“Ready?” Jamie asks.

Tyler thumps his heel against Jamie’s back. “Yes!” He can feel the blunt head of Jamie’s cock against his entrance, He tries to shove himself down onto it, but Jamie’s hands are tight on his hips, holding him in place. Tyler whines, high and desperate, both at being denied and at the ease with which Jamie keeps him in place.

“You sure?” Jamie asks, and Tyler can hear the grin in his voice. When he looks up, Jamie is beaming at him, eyes teasing.

“Oh, is that how you want to play it, Benn?”

“Do your worst, Seguin.”

Well then. Tyler shifts to wrap both legs around Jamie’s waist and holds eye-contact as he tightens his core, and  _ pulls _ . Tyler is a hockey player. His legs are strong, and he knows how to use them. He watches for a moment as Jamie’s eyes go wide, his mouth falling open, and then Tyler has to throw his head back as Jamie presses inside of, one long slide.

“Fuck, Ty, you play dirty,” Jamie gasps, dropping his head to Tyler’s shoulder. He’s not all the way in, but his hips are stuttering in aborted jerks, barely keeping himself in check.

Tyler leans up, making them both gasp when Jamie slide in deeper, and says sweetly into Jamie’s ear, “If you don’t fuck me right now, I will flip you over and do it my own damn self.”

Jamie gasps, and bites down on Tyler’s shoulder as his hips jerk, making Tyler’s toes curl. It’s the end of their teasing, as Jamie grinds in deeper, until he’s fully seated inside Tyler, hips flush. He’s so thick Tyler can only gasp, mouth working desperately, hands grasping at Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie catches Tyler’s hands with his own, interlacing their fingers and pinning Tyler’s arms own on either side of Tyler’s head. “I love you,” he says, serious and beautiful and Tyler’s.

Tyler surges up to kiss him, and keeps kissing him as Jamie pulls back, until Jamie thrust back in and Tyler  _ wails _ . It’s so good, all consuming, with Jamie keeping his hands in place, over him, around him. Each slow slide of his cock sets Tyler slight, the drag Jamie against him rim, the stretch. He can hear himself making desperate noises, only Jamie’s hands on him keeping him from flying apart.

When Jamie hits his prostate, Tyler goes completely nonverbal, sinking deeper into the bed, coming loose and undone with every firm stroke.

“Ty, you okay?” Jamie asks, hips still moving slow and steady, pounding Tyler  _ so good _ .

“Yeah,” Tyler slurs, and clenches down as best he can.

Jamie’s hips stutter, then  _ slam _ in, hard enough that the bedframe slams back against the wall. Tyler arches, chest coming off the bed, hands still pinned. “I’m— Jamie, I’m—” he clenches again, and Jamie drops his head to breathe hard against Tyler’s neck. Tyler turns his head, tries to catch his mouth. They’re both too overwhelmed to kiss properly, panting against one anothers mouth.

Tyler comes like that, mouth open and silent, cock untouched, spilling between them. Jamie goes still when he does, watching Tyler arch against, letting Tyler clench around him.

“God, Ty. You’re so—” Jamie doesn’t, just thrust into Tyler, just shy of too much, and comes. His hands are tight on Tyler’s, squeezing his fingers, and then relaxing as he comes down. For a moment, he sags over Tyler, every inch of bare skin touching, getting Tyler’s come all over himself, and making it hard to breathe in the best possible way.

He rolls over before it gets to be too much, gently easing out of Tyler. Tyler makes grabby hands after him as Jamie stands. Jamie shushes him gently, petting his hair before stepping away. He comes back after a second, like Tyler blinks and Jamie is standing over him, watching him with a dazed, pleased expression.

“I can’t believe-” Jamie says, then ducks his head.

“Hm?”

Jamie gets onto the bed on his knees, kissing Tyler’s mouth, his shoulder, his chest. Then, to Tyler’s amazement, he ducks his head to Tyler’s belly and licks across the worst of the mess. His mouth is hot, his tongue soft as he drags it across Tyler’s skin, alternately licking and then closing his mouth over a spot and sucking.

Tyler comes more and more aware with each sweep of his tongue, until Tyler can feel every tiny drag of Jamie’s teeth, the movement of each hair on his stomach. After a few minutes he nudges at Jamie’s shoulder with his hand until Jamie looks up him. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to,” he gestures.

Jamie’s eyebrows go up, and he gives Tyler’s dick a surprised look. “Really?”

Tyler shrugs, face going red. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jamie protests. “Just—wow.” He gives Tyler a kiss. “We’ll have to try that some other time.”

“Oh, will we?” Tyler asks, stretching.

“Someday, I’m going to fuck you bare, and then eat you out until you come again.” Jamie says it with all the seriousness that he uses to talk about drills in practice, and it shouldn’t make Tyler so hot, but damn if it isn’t working for him.

Still, Tyler can’t make it too easy for him. He nudges his toes into Jamie’s calf. “I thought you didn’t believe in going down.”

It takes Jamie a split second to make the connection, then his face splits into appalled indignation and Tyler can’t help but laugh at him. “I can’t believe you,” Jamie says, shoving a pillow into his face.

“Don’t be ashamed, Chubbs, it’s not for everyone.”

“You’re the worst!”

Tyler grabs the pillow away from him and tucks it behind his own head. He feels buoyant, lighter than air.. He’s not tired like he usually gets after sex, instead he’s filled up. “You love me anyway.” He can read in Jamie’s face, the way every line of it goes soft, that it’s true.

“I do,” Jamie says, stretching out next to him. Tyler debates keeping his position on the conquered pillow for only a second before he curls into Jamie’s side. Jamie automatically puts an arm around Tyler’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I fucked it up so bad.”

“You had to get romantic advice to Sidney Crosby,” Tyler says gleefully.

Jamie jabs him in the ribs. “So did you, shut up.”

Tyler giggles, can’t hold it back. “No one can ever know.”

“No one,” Jamie agrees.

They’re quiet after that, Tyler drifting in and out of sleep as Jamie traces patterns on his shoulder.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want this,” Tyler says when Jamie’s hand finds its way into his hair, gently combing his bedhead down.

“I was pretty sure I’d blown it,” Jamie says. “I just, I couldn’t get what you’d ever see in me.”

“I wanted you the second I got off the plane,” Tyler admits, turning his face into Jamie’s shoulder. “Before the Loops started.’

Jamie’s hand goes still, then picks up when Tyler jabs him in the side. “I had no idea.”

“The flirting wasn’t a clue?”

“I thought you were just like that. You didn’t seem to care about the Loops, about soulmates. I didn’t think you were looking.”

Tyler tries to think over those first Loops from Jamie’s perspective. He’d already guessed that the flirting would have freaked Jamie out, but he hadn’t thought Jamie would think he didn’t even  _ care _ .

“I wasn’t, after awhile. I was-” he swallows, and even now, it’s hard to say it. “I was in love with you. I didn’t want someone else.”

Jamie’s hand goes tight in his hair, and Tyler stifles a gasp. Jamie must hear him anyway, because he soothes it out, and drops his hand back to Tyler’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I kept running. I just—I knew I had to tell you. I just—I didn’t want to lose what we had.” He laugh, nothing happy in the sound.“Jordie told me, the entire Loop, to talk to you. Your friend, Brownie, told me too.”

That asshole. “I knew it.”

“I’m sorry that I let you think—I was so scared, Tyler.”

“I’m not that scary,” Tyler says, trying to smile and not quite managing it.

“You are though. God, sometimes looking at you is like looking at the sun. I tried to tell you before, but I can never get the words—it all gets mixed up, when I try to say it. I wanted to tell you after we first skated together. I wanted to tell you when you told me about the Loops the first time, and when I came out to you, and every day in between.”

Tyler holds up a hand, noticing distantly that it’s shaking. “Jamie, please. I don’t—I don’t care anymore, why you didn’t tell me. I get it, I do. I’m no one’s idea of a perfect soulmate—”

Jamie makes a low, hurt sound, and Tyler falls silent. “No, this is why—Tyler, you’re  _ exactly _ my perfect idea of a soulmate.”

Tyler’s ears are ringing. “What. No, I’m not.”

Jamie curses, and rolls over to cup Tyler’s face in his hands. “Tyler Seguin. You are funny, and kind, and braver than I could ever be. I am so, so fucking in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my entire goddamn life with you. I want to tell everyone that you’re my soulmate, and I want to come out with you and I want to get a million dogs.”

Tyler reaches out to steady himself, everything feeling distant and floaty. He wraps both hands around the solid girth of Jamie’s biceps, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed to Jamie’s.

“Tyler?”

“I need a minute,” Tyler says thickly.

Jamie’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Tyler’s neck, gentle and warm. “You said you just wanted to be friends. You said you had loved me, but you didn’t want that anymore. I thought, I knew I had fucked up. I didn’t think you wanted,” his voice breaks, “I didn’t think you would  _ ever _ want.”

“I do,” Tyler says, his fingers tightening on Jamie’s arms. This close, he can smell Jamie, warm and masculine.

“You told me not to chase you. I wanted—I was waiting. I would wait forever.”

Tyler doesn’t want him to wait.

He lifts his head off of Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie’s eyes are dark and sincere. “Kiss me,” Tyler says, and Jamie’s eyes flare with heat.

Jamie does, leans in and kisses him, and kisses him.

And Tyler believes him.

 

* * *

 

They don’t so much tell Jordie as he walks in on them after they get distracted during Mario Kart when Tyler tries to derail Jamie by putting his feet in Jamie’s lap and it escalates from there.    
  
Jordie walks in when Tyler is fully on-top of Jamie, kissing him, their feet tangled together and Jamie’s hands already starting to push Tyler’s shirt up.   
  
Jordie screams and throws a hand over his eyes, and Tyler rolls off of Jamie so fast he falls off the couch.    
  
“Are you kidding me?” Jordie shouts, and even his beard can’t hide the broad grin spreading over his face. “All this drama, for  _ months,  _ and I look away for five seconds and you’re making out on in my living room!”   
  
“He didn’t have a gold medal before,” Tyler says, and Jamie shoves him back onto the floor while Jordie cackles.    
  
They don’t tell the rest of the team either, but Tyler is pretty sure they all know. They’re never going to be the same media circus that the Crosby-Malkin bond was, and even that has managed to be an open secret, everyone politely pretending it’s platonic even years later.    
  
Having a Captain with a gold medal under his belt really bolsters the team and they come back into the season strong, lighting it up on the ice. Tyler is happier than he could have ever imagined being, every stroke of his blades like flying. Getting a spot in the playoffs, the Stars first in five years, is like a sign, a confirmation that he’s on the right path, that everything has fallen into place.    
  
Three games into rest of the season, Tyler catches a familiar face by the glass during warmups, and he almost slams into Pevs when Simon waves at him. He’s accompanied by a man who has to be Simon’s soulmate, not quite holding his hand but standing too close for anything else. He’s as handsome as Simon had described, even though Tyler prefers Jamie’s broad strength.    
  
Simon points to Jamie and gives Tyler two big thumbs up. Tyler grins back, because yeah, and flips a puck over the side. Simon grabs it, and stares at it like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. The soulmate yells something that Tyler can’t hear, but he’s pretty sure is thanks.    
  
Tyler hopes they’ll stick around after the game, wants to introduce them to Jamie. The fear that had lingered in the Loops over being seen with Simon is gone. Whatever happens, he and Jamie can handle it.    
  
He catches Jamie’s eyes and grins. Jamie grins back, and there’s a split second where the same thought passes between them— they both jump together, slamming into one another in the air, and the crowd is cheering and laughing when they land. It’s going to be a great game.    
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hi on tumblr!](http://spiritsflame.tumblr.com/)


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